


A Stray Beam of Sunlight

by 959somaticcells



Category: Voltron Force (2011)
Genre: AND MUCH MUCH MORE!, Abusive Parents, Childhood Trauma, M/M, Military Academy, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Slow Burn, Smoking, Underage Drinking, sexual themes and references, will tag more potentially triggering content as it becomes relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2020-10-26 22:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 87,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/959somaticcells/pseuds/959somaticcells
Summary: (Reuploaded on new account) Pre-series events grounded in the days where our pilots were still just cadets at the GA academy. Two boys from very different worlds and very different lives find something they need in one another, and forge something indestructible.





	1. Meeting

It had been a bright blue, cloudless day- sunlight streaming in from every window.

The first time Keith saw him, he’d been smiling. Even at that moment, he felt that what he was witnessing was rare, even before they’d said so much as a word to one another.

Lance had been watching the upper-years leave the tarmac for the fighter pilot formation drills; the ones that took you up to the outer border of the mesosphere, so high that you’d feel near weightless and detached from the Earth. At that moment, Keith didn’t yet fully understand what about that would make Lance look so serenely happy- but he would.

The panels of light reflected off of the window placed a yellow rectangle onto his face, so that the somewhat jagged shape of his cheekbones stood out. There were freckles across the bridge of his nose like sunspots, subtle but in high contrast with the help of the lighting. His hair was an interesting shade of orange made gold, trimmed rather unevenly to about ear-length. He’d heard rumours about _that weird McClain guy, who never smiles and talks back to officers and has probably killed someone at some point-_ not that it meant a lot to Keith. He’d known enough people to know most aren’t worth trusting or believing the opinions of.

“You’re Lance, right?”

Keith could’ve sworn Lance had jumped slightly when he approached, considering reaching for something in his bag before turning to face him.

The change in his face, moving away from the light and back into the shadow, made Keith even more aware of the sharpness of his features. He nearly, but not quite, scowled in acknowledgement. That was… not the response Keith was used to.

“Why do you care?”

His arms were folded on his chest defensively and he looked over Keith with no insincere deference or desire to impress. Somehow his willingness to let Keith know he wasn’t interested in talking to him was refreshing, compared to how some classmates approached him almost expectantly, hoping to get something out of standing beside _the _Keith Kogane. Even when Keith could _tell _there was a sense of resentment or dislike, nobody else had shown hostility to him so openly until now. He couldn’t help but smile.

“I saw you in the flight sim class we had yesterday. You’re pretty good.”

He briefly considered extending a hand, even knowing full well that Lance wouldn’t shake, but decided that’d come across exactly the way he hated when it was done to himself; insincere, manipulative, empty. If Lance wanted space, he should give it to him. Keith stepped back a little, made a conscious effort to relax his posture a little from the soldier’s stance he found instinctual by now, and watched Lance’s shoulders fall slightly in turn.

“…Thanks.”

By the slight change in tone, it seemed Lance could tell Keith’s compliment had been honest. Something about him- maybe the way his eyes seemed to constantly be scanning him, or the way his lip twitched in response to his words like begrudging acceptance- told Keith he wasn’t the kind of person who could easily be lied to.

“I was thinking-“ Keith went on, suddenly feeling like time was running out before Lance would abruptly up and go, not needing a social cue of approval to leave the conversation. “-Maybe we could be a team, sometime. For the simulator, I mean.”

Dark eyes narrowed slightly, just for a fraction of a moment, giving Keith an unfamiliar shiver. It felt strange to be seeking out someone like this, being the one looking for something from _them. _It didn’t feel at all like he did when deferring to a superior or formulating his replies to his father in hopes of receiving some certain permission or word of approval- not nearly as empty, as false. Maybe that’s why he never felt anything reporting to people like that; he hadn’t really been all there, mentally but not emotionally invested in the outcome, not like now.

Finally, Lance produced a somewhat-positive-sounding huff, and Keith let go of his breath. Not quite a resounding _yes, _but not a no, either.

“I’ll think about it.”

Keith grinned, feeling like he’d won over something rare and precious. “Well, thanks. It’s, uh, nice meeting you.” Was normal, informal conversation supposed to be this difficult? Keith had never realized it before, but… that was a skill he certainly didn’t have.

Lance’s mouth curved in an almost-smile. “Yeah.” He picked up his book-bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulders, Keith catching a second-long glimpse into the contents- silver thermos, an ancient-looking book- and what Keith was pretty sure was a switchblade. Keith figured Lance must be pretty good at keeping secrets if _that _hadn’t been spotted and confiscated by now- either Lance had slipped up for just that second, or he’d decided that Keith wasn’t threat enough to rat him out. He’d hope it was the latter.

Lance turned towards him before walking off, his mannerisms still relatively cautious and guarded- _why did that bother him so much?_

“I’ll see you in class.”

Keith nodded with perhaps a bit too much eagerness. He watched Lance disappear around a corner, still trying to process the outcome of his first normal peer-to-peer conversation in… ever. Had that gone well or poorly? He almost wished an instructor would come out from behind a locker and give him a feedback report.

That unfamiliar buzzing in his chest was still there.


	2. Simulating

Keith had approached him openly, undefended, in the classroom. He either didn’t notice or didn’t feel like paying attention to the whispers on their far left, but Lance did. He could pick up on the gist of what they were saying, even if they were out of earshot. What did Kogane want with _him?_

Lance wanted to know the answer to that, too.

Pulling out a chair in the adjacent desk, Keith leaned slightly towards him, offering a smile that looked more-or-less genuine. There were a couple of minutes until the second bell, and the sound of laughter, grandstanding and gossip rang through the room.

“Did you decide if you’ll let me be your partner for today?” Keith asked, sounding forcedly casual. It was strange to note that nervousness in him, Lance thought. A little suspicious. Maybe Keith was playing a long game to humiliate him in some way, but what would be the point of that? So far, the lesson Lance had gotten at the Garrison is that he wasn’t even worth picking on, not least because he could bite back, but also because he was just that irrelevant.

He appraised Keith’s words, the fidgeting of his fingers with his hands folded neatly on the desk. He really did seem earnest- maybe he was a little uncomfortable because, well… Lance knew well enough how he must look with his shoulders hunched folded over the table. Even Keith would probably be thinking to keep a safe distance from a wild, maybe-rabid animal.

“Mm. Sure.” Lance spoke stiltedly, cautiously. He wasn’t going to give away too much, even _if _he was going along with Keith’s machinations for now.

Keith beamed at him- once again, irritatingly earnestly, no discernible trace of malice or saccharine falsehood, or even that awful pity Lance sometimes got from the more empathic staff when they _found out. _He’d honestly rather put up with being berated for the things he _could _control- his misbehaviour, his darting out-of-line- than be whispered about in that horrible, wistful way.

_Poor kid. He could’ve been so much more than this._

Hazy, grey static of suppressed anger was broken through by a singular transmission. “I was thinking you could take the lead and I’d co-pilot. If you want.” There was a trace of a stutter in Keith’s voice that couldn’t be missed. Nervousness. Just like before, when he’d caught him watching the flight formations in the hall.

Lance nodded, not feeling up to conversation until he’d sounded Keith out a little longer. It was difficult to accept- to believe he really might be everything he seemed like on the surface. That someone just might exist like that went against everything Lance had learned about people.

Keith accepted his silence, with just a slight head-tilt of confused disappointment, before bouncing back up- taking what he could for now, Lance guessed- and signalled for the instructor’s attention, seeming to confuse him in turn with his animated insistence on working with Lance.

He must get some special privileges- Lance wasn’t even sure if you _could _pick your own partner this early on in the flight sim rounds- but a Kogane could, apparently.

Lance shrugged to himself, giving up the slightest trace of a maybe-smile as Keith sat back down and beamed at him in indication of his mission’s success. It didn’t hurt.

In the simulacra of the cockpit, Lance felt more comfortable than at the desk, less like an island lost in a sea where all around him were sharks circling, talking, giggling, wondering, watching. A confined, dark space, illuminated by panels of blue and green control interfaces, the projection of the imaginary take-off ramp like a window into a different world, a place he could go if only he flew right. And of all the things Lance couldn’t do right in the Garrison- obey the chain of command, respect authority, get along with peers, make friends- the one thing he _could _do damn well was fly. Or simulate it, anyways.

Keith was unexpectedly good at following his lead, even before Lance had said a direction verbally. It was impossible for him to ignore that they fell into sync almost effortlessly, compensating for each other’s blind spots and improving what they already were skilled at. And Keith _was _good- Lance couldn’t ignore that, either. He was more than a spoiled brat riding high on his legacy, after all. He’d worked for his own reputation, earned it.

_So it was alright to admire him a little, maybe._

It was hard to believe the entire ninety minutes had passed until the screens went red, briefly dimming and setting the cockpit in a rusty haze before displaying the stats of their run. Lance raised an eyebrow- they’d done well. _Really _well.

The instructor today wasn’t one he’d had too many incidents with, so his congratulations sounded more than begrudging. They still weren’t number one in the class today- Garrett and Stoker had outshined them in the category of defensive manoeuvres- but it felt good to have someone to work alongside that he actually _liked._

Actually liked - That gave Lance a pause, while he gathered his books, Keith apparently _waiting for him _by the door. Keith was trying to be his friend, maybe even a little desperately. Lance didn’t know how that made him feel, but that edge of suspicion at the bottom of his stomach remained. He sort of, kind of, wanted to get close, in the way you always want to come _just a little closer _to the fire until you get burned. But he wasn’t that stupid.

When he exited, he didn’t dart around any corners or tell Keith to piss off, but he wasn’t going to bask in his attention, either- if _that _was what Keith wanted, an ego boost from the kid with nobody else to go to or a blind lackey. He felt sort of guilty coming up with these worst-case scenarios with Keith, considering he’d given no hint of a reason for Lance to think he’d have any ulterior motive- but he couldn’t help it. In a way, that inability to read any hint of a desire to take something from him just made Lance _more _suspicious of him.

Finally, Keith asked something that required more than a grunt of general awareness or acceptance. “Do you wanna do a study group with me later today? For the physics midterm. Me and Sven- d’you know Sven?”

Lance stopped walking, processed the new information. So Keith was buddy-buddy with Sven too. What was he trying to do- befriend all the orphaned Alliance wards like Collect ‘Em All figurines?

“Of course I know him,” Lance replied abrasively, feeling a pang of guilt when Keith retreated a step backwards. “We’re sort of in this academy for the same reason, and it’s not because we’ve got families in high places.” Lance snorted, a bitter note of laughter in his voice. “Or have families at all.”

Keith looked at him with remorse, but not— not pity. There was a difference, Lance could tell. Whether someone felt sorry for what happened to _him _or more sorry for themselves for having to hear about it, to feel a little sad so they can feel good about how they get sad over all the right things. “Sorry.”

“Why’re you sorry?” Lance snapped more at himself than Keith, now. “Why would I expect you to know anything about me, or Sven, or anyone? I just-“ he cleared his throat. “_I’m _sorry. I guess. You didn’t ask anything wrong.” He looked away from Keith’s eyes- the guiltiness in them was a little too much to bear. He didn’t have anything to feel guilty for, but Lance guessed he was just _empathic _like that. He didn’t feel like passing on any more bad feelings to him. Keith didn’t deserve that.

“Well…” Keith looked down, seeming uncharacteristically awkward again. It was difficult to believe he was the same person who sat upright at the front of every class, stood like he’d been a soldier his whole life, had the bearing of the person everyone wanted to be like or plainly wanted. “…My offer stands, I mean, if you wanna come. Maybe Sven already told you…”

“He didn’t.” Lance cut him off, the back of his mind seeking a novel route out of this encounter before he got overwhelmed again, said something that made Keith’s eyes look all sad again, made them grab his attention and think too much about the difference of their happy blue and sad blue, and how hard they were to ignore in contrast to the colour of his skin, an unusual combination that nonetheless suited him just right… yeah, it was hard to miss why girls talked about him the way they did. “I’ll be there. Where are we meeting?”

Blue eyes brightened again, like the sun rose just a little in the sky. “We’ll go to the hydraulics lab room- nobody has classes there at six, and it’s always unlocked. Sven found it, and it’s really quiet over there outside class hours.”

_Sven broke that lock- it’s definitely not _supposed _to stay open, _Lance thought, but decided not to tell Keith just yet. He smirked privately- Sven was a lot better than he was at concealing his rough edges from the public eye, but they were all still there. The quick wit of a kid from a desperate time and place.

* * *

“You’re really mad about that?”

Sven’s face faded and re-emerged behind the clouds of smoke he exhaled alongside Lance. Considering the remainders of butts pressed into the corner between the wall and the storage shed, they weren’t the only ones to come out and smoke here after hours. Chances are nobody would catch them at two in the morning, though.

“I just figure you would’ve _told _me something about him.” Lance huffed, going through his cigarette faster than normal in his desire to keep his mouth busy and not cuss Sven out.

“Didn’t really come up.” Sven watched the twinkling of pilot lights on the horizon with a serene expression. The vodka he’d come up with was already half-finished between them, and Lance wasn’t feeling as able to hide the source of his irritation as he was half an hour ago.

“But you could’ve _warned _me,” he hissed, throwing down the butt and immediately pulling out a new one to light before he’d even stamped out the last. Sven raised an eyebrow, but looked relatively unperturbed. “He’s so… why didn’t you tell me anything about him?”

Sven leaned on the shed, cocked his head to the side to watch Lance. “What bothers you so much about him?”

“He acts like he wants to know me. Like he wants me to _like _him,” Lance scowled, nearly burning his lungs with how sharply he inhaled- wanting to burn the confusion about Keith out of his chest. “But why? Was he like that around you?”

“I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt,” Sven replied nonchalantly. He passed the bottle back to Lance. “It’s not like we stand anything to _lose, _really. Might as well try and float along as well as we can.” _That _was the core of Sven’s whole ideology about being put here, Lance figured. He took a path of least resistance, in a way. Let his external charm, his good looks and fascinating accent and talent carry him, kept his troubled mind under implacable silver eyes and a calm smile. But Lance had neither looks nor charm. And he wasn’t half as good about hiding his thorns- didn’t really want to, either.

“Lance.” Sven had a way of commanding his attention when he said his name _just that way, _like a blast of icy wind in a storm. Made him shiver.

“Why are you so afraid of him?” He asked, leaning onto Lance’s shoulder, stealing a cigarette out of his pocket.

“I’m _not _afraid,” Lance snarled, pointedly looking away from Sven and at the blinking red lights in the distance. “I just don’t… know what I think of him yet.”

Sven nodded. “And you don’t like people you can’t read at first glance, do you?”

Lance didn’t need to answer that. Sven knew him well enough. Probably could tell far more about what bothered him about Keith than he wanted him to. But he could trust Sven to keep that information to himself, not even to tell _him _what he was feeling. Sven liked his secrets.

* * *

When he climbed into the window, Darrell was still studying. Or maybe he was reading about nanocircuitry for fun- it wouldn’t surprise Lance.

“You smell like an ashtray,” He muttered, not looking away from his textbook. “Out with Holgersson?”

“Mm.” Lance collapsed on his bunk, allowing himself a flair of drama. While sharing living space- particularly _sleeping space- _with _anyone _was a challenge for Lance, Darrell was alright. As long as he didn’t mess with his contraband electronics, he probably wouldn’t get his throat slit in his sleep. Lance didn’t know him too well- he was, what, six years younger than the rest of the class? But he was one of them, too. Survivors. He’d always have a little bit of an easier time trusting people like them.

“You’re gonna have a hangover during morning classes.” Darrell didn’t bother putting his book away, tucking it under his arm as he turned out the light like it was a lucky charm or something. Weird kid, but still alright.

“It takes more than this to give me a hangover,” Lance countered, changing into clean clothes while he faced the wall. “I was just a little on edge.”

“Uh huh.” Darrell sounded tired, not up to prying. He wasn’t the sort, anyways. Quiet, pretty private. Lance didn’t even know he had a twin until an officer brought it up during role call one day. “Figure you won’t tell me why. Hope you feel less edgy, though.”

Lance hummed in response, glad Darrell wouldn’t try to goad anything more out of him than that. He turned off his light, heard a brief shuffling sound of sheets in the upper bunk followed by a sense of silence that told him he was alone in his consciousness.

He stared at the metal grates holding up the mattress above him, wished he’d had a little more of Sven’s vodka, hangover be damned- he had an itch in his stomach, an awful cold tingling in his spine, that made it impossible to lie still.

And when he tried to close his eyes, he still kept seeing them- those other eyes meeting his.

Sort of sad, sort of _imploring;_ like Lance had something he was desperate for_. _But what _was _it Keith wanted from him?

He didn’t know. Lance didn’t know a damn thing about what Keith wanted from him, and it was keeping him awake.

Bastard.


	3. Familiarity

Keith kept watching, waiting for something to shift. Maybe Lance would uncross his arms every now and then, or give him something more than a neutral expression, but that was as far as he got. It didn’t frustrate him, though; it still felt like something real was forming between them. Lance let him sit next to him in class, continue the pilot sims together, eat lunch next to him- and sometimes he’d say something back. He could feel something genuine about whatever few words he got, and found himself becoming more comfortable in Lance’s company as well, his back less rigid and smile more… well, real.

Watching Lance cut up a banana methodically managed to slip a chuckle out, and Lance looked up to glower at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

Lance seemed unsettled, still- it occurred to Keith that he might feel like he’s being made fun of. “It’s just- you’re eating a banana with a fork and knife. Never saw anyone do that before.”

Lance’s expression softened to something like a tired scowl. “Is there a rule against it, Kogane?”

Keith couldn’t quite make out if he was joking or serious. One thing he’d managed to pick up about Lance was that he was particularly cautious of Keith because of his standing with the faculty. Maybe he felt like Keith was waiting for just the right moment to catch him up in a misdemeanour and get him into trouble.

Keith looked away, deciding it probably wasn’t helping matters that he’d sort of caught himself staring at Lance more than once. Still, his eyes kept drifting back, unable to help but be fascinated with every small motion and the serious expression on Lance’s face, like his mind was planning something out elsewhere, not content to stay within the confines of the Academy even if the escape was only mental.

That was it- Lance reminded Keith of a caged bird, one that had no intent of accepting its fate. Like when he was a kid and he’d seen a colleague of his parents who’d tried to capture and tame some exotic raptor; just for the sake of owning and controlling something precious, he figured. Keith still felt nauseous at the memory of the stuffed heads on the parlour wall, and the smell of wood polish and animal furs slowly decaying. But even after what had been months, as far as he’d known- the moment a window was left open, the cage door a bit loose- that bird hadn’t forgotten what it wanted. It had disappeared into the evening sky, right in front of its captor and his guests- and Keith had felt like he’d been offered some lesson, knowledge his parents would never have wanted to fall into his hands. Lance had that effect of reminding him that there _was _a world outside, and perhaps he could want for more than he had. Something different from the life he’d been told to make for himself within his own kind of cage.

“Uh. Are _you _gonna eat?”

Lance had tilted his head slightly, a confused frown on his lips. Keith jolted back into the present, wondering exactly how long he’d been zoned out to warrant Lance’s concern.

“Right.” Keith chewed mechanically on his sandwich, senses still not entirely returned from that room that felt like an altar to death, and that bird that had remained unbroken. He _really _didn’t feel like eating, but he also didn’t want to weird Lance out any further.

They spent the rest of lunch in a comfortable silence. Keith appreciated how Lance didn’t feel the need to fill the space with small talk or idle chatter, something he’d learned to tolerate but never liked about spending time with other people. Maybe he was imagining things wishfully, but- it seemed like there was something warm in the quiet space between them, something they were communicating wordlessly.

* * *

Sven shook his head. “He definitely doesn’t know what to make of you. But he doesn’t dislike you.”

Keith breathed a sigh of relief. At least he had that much to go off of- but why did he need to hear it from Sven so badly? It’s not like Lance was someone who’d stick around out of politeness if he didn’t like him. It was just that… for whatever reason, Keith felt like he needed to hear it from someone else, just to make sure.

“I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Keith frowned, sitting on the bunk half-folded into himself. “I want to be his friend, but I feel like- like I’m stuck, and I can’t get any farther.”

“Maybe you’re trying too hard.” Sven sat next to him, making himself at home on Keith’s bunk like a cat that decided whose furniture to sleep on.

“You don’t have to be so enigmatic about it,” Keith huffed, elbowing him but barely getting a response. “I want advice, not a puzzle.”

Sven stretched his arms out, smiling slightly in that frustrating, _knowing _way. Keith sat up rigidly and glared down at him.

“If this is because you don’t want me to _also _be his friend-"

Sven chuckled, eyes widening in mock surprise. “My, Keith, I never pinned you as the jealous type...”

Only when Keith began smothering him with his pillow did Sven finally relent.

Catching his breath, he still had that shit-eating grin. He had a way of riling Keith up when he wanted to, like it was some odd hobby of his.

“Okay, okay- I’ll tell you this much. Lance takes a long time to warm up to people; it’s just his nature. Even to me, I’d say he’s half-defrosted at best. All of us Alliance wards have our own ways we learned to cope. He retreats within himself.”

“And you?”

Sven’s calm smile dropped a few degrees in temperature. “Not relevant.”

Keith nodded slowly, apologetically. He always had a hard time knowing when he was crossing the line; probably a consequence of not doing a whole lot of heart-to-hearts in his life. But it was enough to know that he _could _get through to Lance; eventually. He couldn’t find the right words even in his own head to explain what exactly he was looking for, or why this was so important to him; it just _was. _Something about Lance… something that didn’t have a name, yet. It was foreign territory to him, maybe to anyone. And it felt to him like something that would need him to be even more intrepid and brave than the spacefaring commander he’d signed up to become.

“You know- he’s pretty talented with piloting.”

Sven’s voice returned to normal as fast as it had cooled off. He was drawing circles with his finger on the duvet, fidgeting with his hands the way he always did when he was trying to recount something to tell.

“He’s a year younger than us, but was moved ahead because of his aptitude for the practical tests. Not that he particularly cares for the Academy,” Sven mused on the last of his observations like he was thinking of some private joke. “You’ve probably heard about the discipline issues on his record. Still- one doesn’t skip ahead in this program unless they’re _really _good.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t tell me any of that.”

“He doesn’t exactly volunteer personal information, does he? He didn’t tell me, either. I was looking through entrance records for my own.”

“Jesus, Sven.” Keith shook his head. “Do you _want _to get expelled?”

“I just wanted to know how much information they had on me was all. Shouldn’t it be my right to know?” Sven kicked his slippers off and across the room. “Anyways, I’m going to sleep. Didn’t get any last night thanks to the midterm this morning.”

Keith scoffed. “Serves you right. _You_ were the one who goofed off during group study.”

Sven rolled his eyes. “You sound like my-“ He paused, his mouth leveling into an expression that didn’t betray any emotion whatsoever. “Anyways, goodnight. Try not to lose _too _much sleep over Lance, will you?”

Keith just managed to hit him in the leg with a book before he disappeared into the top bunk.

He was irritated more than usual by Sven’s jabs- but he wasn’t sure what bothered him so much, so there was nothing he could say in retaliation. There was nothing _wrong _with how he was behaving, right? Keith realized he wasn’t well-versed in making friends, but maybe there was something more off about him than he’d realized, something Sven could read about him that he didn’t even know about himself.

Or maybe he was just being a prick.

Keith frowned at the wall, unable to get his eyes to _just close and stay closed_. He decided that if he wanted to lose sleep over Lance, that wasn’t any of Sven’s business.


	4. Trust

When Keith was called into the discipline office, nobody whispered or gossiped as they might’ve about others; after all, _Keith _didn’t disobey or cause problems. He was the model cadet, the one that their instructors referred to as the paragon of excellence, with no black marks on his record to speak of. What he _was _was their year’s representative of the space exploration training program, and hence the obligatory student presence at many a dispute.

It wouldn’t have been the first time this year he’d been called on for this duty, and usually his presence was no more than a tokenary custom reflecting the Garrison’s desire to impress their most loyal recruits with a greater respect for the rules and regulations, and a desire for their upkeep. When Keith entered the office to see Lance standing before him, he wasn’t entirely surprised- after all, Lance had a well-established reputation. What _did _concern him was that this situation looked particularly dire, with an administrator that Keith _knew _Lance had an unpleasant history with standing next to the discipline officer with a black eye and a venomous glare.

“Kogane- I believe that you’re well-acquainted with your peer McClain, yes?”

The discipline officer sounded more tired and frustrated than angry. Lance was likely a pretty familiar face to him, and he looked towards him more as a nuisance or a pest than a student. Keith glanced away, not wanting to betray any anger towards his superiors.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you know of his history of discipline issues?” The injured party interjected, now staring Keith down as if hoping to pry out some testimony against Lance on the spot.

What the hell were they doing with these questions? There wasn’t any way out, no way to _not _speak poorly of Lance- they _wanted _to frame him in a bad light. The way things were unraveling before him set a heavy weight in Keith’s gut as he realized what he was about to be made complicit in. “…Yes, Sir.”

A wave of nausea, his stomach twisting when Lance’s eyes moved in his direction. The taste of shame in his mouth, despite knowing there wasn’t anything different he could’ve said.

“Then you know why you’re here.”

Lance’s arms were folded, but Keith could see his knuckles were bruised.

Keith listened to the indignant recounting of what exactly had transpired _this _time; Lance had managed to become embroiled in an argument with an administrator, who had some suspicions of Lance committing some academic fraud (which, even _he _admitted, he had no evidence of). It had been that Lance’s track record with obedience, as well as the reason for his ending up at the Academy in the first place, made it difficult to accept that Lance was truly doing _that _well.

The administrator seemed genuinely shocked that Lance would take offence to his calling his place of birth ‘a backwater world’, and even more incredulous that calling a student a ‘burden on Alliance resources’ might lead to some violent altercations. The whole time through, Keith couldn’t believe that anyone _saying _these things could possibly see themselves as the victim in the event, besides through a deeply-rooted sense of prejudice and superiority. Though he wasn’t always in agreement with the things Lance picked fights over, he certainly felt that the punch had been well-earned, whether or not it was directed at a superior.

The discipline officer, however, frowned appraisingly, looking almost _sympathetically _at the administrator- Keith felt his blood boil.

“Such blatant disrespect of authority and display of uncontrolled emotion certainly seems problematic.”

Keith wanted to scream. Lance’s face was blank, emotionless, withholding any sign of anger or disgust- Keith knew he had to do the same.

The cadets stood quietly apart from when called upon to answer questions, which never required more than a _yes-or-no-or-I-don’t-know-sir_. Lance’s _sir_s in particular had a certain barely-noticeable jaggedness to them, but it wasn’t even anger; it was the sharp, unyielding edge of defiance, which he held up even here and now.

Standing shoulder to shoulder but hardly able to make any movement, Keith wished he could squeeze his hand, put one on his shoulder- _anything _to know that he knew, _he knew, _and he hated this too. He hoped, prayed that Lance trusted him not to be on board with any of this, wished he’d be given any chance to put a good word on Lance in, but he was merely stage dressing for the tribunal. The adults began deliberating, weighing Lance’s crimes past and present. Keith zoned out of their muttering and complaints, not wanting to get riled up enough to throw some punches of his own, until a suggestion from the administrator grabbed his full attention like a slap to the face.

“I personally recommend expulsion. There’s no sense in teaching someone who has no desire to follow instructions or respect authority.”

If Lance felt anything about the statement- he had to, right?- it didn’t show on his face. But Keith felt the blood draining from his _own_ face, his fingers itching. No, no,_ no._ He had to do something, anything. But what could _he_ do- some cadet, a kid with not much standing besides his family reputation and a knack for flight sims? He was only here because he was the program class representative, not because he had any input on the disciplinary committee. Not formally, anyways.

His mind buzzed frenetically with desperation for a solution, landing on what Keith decided was his only real choice.

“I can think of plenty of candidate replacements in the space exploration program, far superior soldiers and students. Let’s not waste any more time on-“

Regardless of the consequences, he wouldn’t- couldn’t hesitate.

“With all due respect, Sir-“ Keith spoke calmly, seriously, the sense of urgency burying every piece of social training that warned him against this course of action. “Lance is irreplaceable.” He forced himself to lock eyes with the discipline officer, to hold his gaze. “If he goes, I go.”

The look he got back was unmistakable; disbelief, scandal, but definite understanding. Keith didn’t joke around, he didn’t make false promises, and he _didn’t _lie to his superiors- no Kogane would. Every word he said he intended to follow through on, and everyone in the room knew it.

Lance was looking at him, too- he could feel the heat of his glare even as he remained in the corner of his vision. He was looking at him with some intense feeling that Keith couldn’t name. But even if he was angry at Keith’s interference, he could accept that. As long as he didn’t lose him.

“…Very well.”

The silence was broken with a reshuffling of papers and an incredulous snort.

“Sir, you can’t possibly let this slip just because-“

“-I’ll believe Kogane’s judgement on his peer; considering his spotless record and high rate of achievement, I see no reason not to.”

Keith and Lance watched wordlessly as the slighted administrator struggled to contain himself in front of his superior, clearly completely unhappy with the results unfolding. The discipline officer surveyed him passively, thoughtfully, passing Lance himself only a cursory glance.

“Kogane.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“You realize now that if I am to act leniently on McClain today, any future infraction would be a consequence of your poor judgement?”

Keith nodded resolutely, feeling a tinge of anger rising into his voice. “Understood, Sir. I have complete confidence in McClain.” It took all his self-control not to turn towards him, offer some gesture of support beyond these stiff, formal words. He didn’t like talking about Lance like he was some— some _object _they were assaying the usefulness of, whether he was worth keeping around or already obsolete. But if he had to play this game for Lance’s sake, at least he was good at it.

Opaque, heavy glasses were absently wiped clean. “Very well. McClain will be assigned to work detail manually cleaning off the interiors of the senior practice jets, which I believe will take no more than four weeks of diligent work alongside regular classes.” He turned towards the administrator, still looking utterly betrayed by the derailment of his plans of expulsion. The discipline officer gave no more than a nonchalant shrug, one that seemed to suggest: _Let it slide this time. If we’re right the boy will slip up again soon enough, and it’ll be over with._

“All dismissed.”

Keith and Lance nodded curtly and walked away carefully, stiffly, like on the brink of a precipice around the still-furious administrator watching them go.

The door closing behind them sounded like a deafening, resounding landslide- the destruction of some path behind them, sealing away whatever other direction things could’ve gone forever.

* * *

“You could’ve gotten yourself expelled alongside me. Why’d you do that?”

There were so many things that Keith was afraid to let escape his mouth, words he kept tucked under his tongue. He paused, swallowed them down.

“Because it was true. You _are _irreplaceable, as a pilot and as- as my friend.”

Lance tilted his head, only a twitch of his lip to inform Keith of what was going through his mind- trying to pry for the truth, to verify if he really meant what he’d told him. Keith was afraid of just how much his body might be giving away that he’d forced himself not to in his words.

Finally, he smiled just barely enough to notice, a crack of sunlight in a bleak and grey setting, through the storm they’d just weathered together.

“Well… Thanks.”

Keith looked away, all of a sudden feeling like some defence within him was being overwhelmed with that one secret weapon, the one Lance probably had no idea held that kind of power. Keith himself didn’t completely understand why Lance’s rare smiles had that effect on him, besides just wanting to see his friend be happy.

“Don’t mention it. I… uh.” Keith tried to control each facial muscle in tandem to produce a smile of his own that wouldn’t come across as _too much, _the way he feared. “I’m just glad you’re staying here.”

Lance smiled a little wider and Keith felt something in his chest explode.

“I guess… I guess I am, too.”

Before Keith could reboot himself from the unexpected blow to his heart, Lance attacked again, gave him— gave him a hug, brief and rough but still a _hug, _holy _fucking _smokes—

“Gotta go tell Sven I’m not getting kicked out after all,” Lance spoke right by his ear, but Keith could barely hear him through the din of his own heartbeat. “I’ll, um. See you tomorrow in class.”

He disappeared without waiting for a reply, maybe because he moved so fast or maybe because Keith still was processing way too much information to take in what was going on around him. His systems were overloaded, brain spitting out sparks.

A hug, from Lance. Holy shit.

He couldn’t stop smiling.


	5. Friends

It made Keith anxious just watching Lance carry that huge, heavy-looking box on his own down the hall, making him feel the need to run up and offer a hand in spite of his suspicion that Lance would take offence.

“Can I help carry something?”

“I’ve got it,” Lance huffed, his face not visible from behind the carton. “Just a couple halls more.”

“Let me get one end of the box. It’ll be easier with two people,” Keith insisted. “It’s way too much for one person to carry alone.” for a moment wondering if he was overstepping some boundary before Lance relented.

“Thanks.”

As Keith took his half of the burden, he was shocked at how heavy it was- why was Lance attempting to carry something like this on his own, and how did he even manage to get this far?

“Don’t mention it.”

Now they had to shuffle somewhat awkwardly as they each held an end of the oblong box, forced to step in stride. It _was _pretty impressive, how much stronger Lance was than he looked. Not that he didn’t _look _strong, but—

Keith caught himself staring again, ripped his line of vision away. “This needs to go to the East hangar, right?”

“Yeah. It’s got four weeks worth of cleaning supplies.” Lance sounded amused at his own expense. “Could be worse, though. They could’ve left me out in the desert for the vultures or something. Or used me for class target practice.”

Keith didn’t know what to say in response to that. He kept silent the rest of the way to the hangar, until the shared burden could finally be set down with a heavy _thud._

Lance huffed in exhaustion and stretched his arms up in a long oval with his fingers interlaced over his head, his shirt riding up just a little, and— and Keith resented how quickly he’d noticed that. He turned and stared at a randomly selected wall.

_Christ— Why was I even looking there? I’m seriously messed up. What the hell is wrong with me? _Keith blinked hard, trying to turn off the barrage of angry thoughts crossing his mind.

“Hey, Lance?”

He had an idea, maybe one that’d come across as _too much_ when he said it aloud, but in the rush to shut up the self-loathing voice in his head he didn’t care. “D’you want to hang out me and some friends later today? If you have time after your work here, I mean. The three of us were gonna watch a movie.”

Lance wiped his forehead off. “Sure. I mean, if you think they’d be okay with me showing up with you.”

“Well, yeah- Why wouldn’t they be?” Keith offered what he hoped was just the right amount of smile.

“Well.” Up close like this, Keith could see the sharp incisors framing Lance’s sarcastic catlike grin. “This might come as a surprise to you, but I’m generally not a very popular guy.”

“I know that, but that’s…” Keith searched for the right thing to say, something that wouldn’t dismiss the way Lance had been treated but wouldn’t make it seem like he thought there was any justification for that treatment. “Well… most people don’t give you a fair chance, but Pidge and Hunk are smart. I know Pidge said you’re not a very talkative roommate, but he’d totally like to hang out with you normally. Hunk really wants to meet you, too.”

“Wait— by Pidge, you mean Darrell, right?” Lance seemed a little confused. “And you… talked about me with him and Hunk?”

“Sorry, I should’ve said,” Keith replied sheepishly. “I can’t believe you’ve been roommates with him this long and he didn’t tell you, pretty much everyone who knows him well enough calls him Pidge. I guess… you really _don’t _do a lot of talking. And, uh, I just told them I thought you were a cool guy and they should get to know you better.” Was that weird? When Keith said it out loud, it seemed pretty weird.

Lance just looked over him with that truth-extracting scan of his, brow furrowed and mouth slightly downturned. It still made Keith nervous, no matter how many times Lance did it, since half the time he didn’t know what the feelings and thoughts he was conveying even _were._

“Huh. That’s… nice of you to say,” Lance mumbled, still seeming a little suspicious. “You sure it’s okay if I come?”

“Definitely.” Keith _knew _he sounded overeager, but seeing the way Lance was so quick to deflect every positive thing he was told about himself like projectiles made Keith desperate to try and get around it, to stick a blow through and make him _believe _he meant what he was telling him. “I’d— we’d be really happy if you could come.”

Finally, he got a slight nod and a moment’s unshielded glance. Acceptance.

“Okay.”

Keith wondered if he had enough nerve left in him to try returning that hug Lance had given him in front of the discipline office, decided not to gamble on it. He’d pulled enough risky, tactically unsound maneuvers with Lance for one day.

“That’s great.” He smiled and looked up at Lance, meeting his eyes, and held them for way longer than he was usually comfortable with. Normally he’d only look people in the eye when he knew he was _supposed _to, didn’t really _like _doing it, but somehow he felt comfortable with this. He’d never really appreciated how the same dark eyes that gave such intense glares were really warm in the light, like lanterns or glowing embers. Shit- he forgot again, you’re supposed to look away every eight seconds to keep it from getting weird when you make eye contact, right? At least Lance didn’t seem uncomfortable about it. “I’ll… see you later, then? You’ll be there?”

Lance nodded, gave a smile in return that kicked up sparks. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

“Where are you going?”

Darrell- actually, _Pidge _to his friends- seemed a little justifiably suspicious about where Lance was sneaking off to. Hunk not so much- he hadn’t really witnessed too much of what havoc Lance could wreak just yet.

“I’ve got work detail in the East hangar. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“That sucks,” Hunk frowned. “I was hopin’ the three of us could set up a round of Astromancy today and teach you to play.”

“We can do that some other time once I’ve finished.”

“What’d you get in trouble for, anyways?” Pidge asked, not sounding judgemental so much as genuinely curious. As they got to know each other better, it turned out that Pidge wasn’t as innocent a kid as he seemed- he just was better at flying under the radar with his mischief, tinkering with stolen electronics and hacking into encrypted communications channels. Lance never imagined himself becoming friends with a chaotic genius ten-year-old, but he certainly was glad to pick up a few tricks and know his roommate wasn’t going to tell him off for misdemeanours of his own.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Punched an admin a few days ago and nearly got expelled. Keith saved my ass.” Noting the puzzled expressions on his friends’ faces, he continued. “I’ll tell you about it later, but I need to get to work.”

“Sounds good,” Hunk said quietly, sounding equal parts amazed and concerned. He came across as really shy but genuine, and stuck to Pidge like glue, making them an oddball ensemble of sorts on campus. “See ya.”

Lance nodded, paced away already dreading the next set of jets he was going to be manually polishing today. Still, it beat expulsion. Where would he have gone if he’d been kicked out- what would’ve happened to him? He was old enough now that he would’ve been left to fend for himself, no longer the Alliance’s problem child or burden to bear. It wasn’t comfortable to think about, but sometimes he liked to torture himself with it. After all, he’d outlived everyone else. Wasn’t it about time…?

But Keith had put an end to that, wherever that road might’ve taken him. Lance wondered if he’d _wanted _to get expelled, maybe, just a little; just to get his inevitable failure over with and stop pretending he could go on living like a normal person. Keith had taken a big personal risk for him, though- for someone like _him, _a delinquent with no foreseeable future besides the hazy fog of disaster always looming on his horizon. It didn’t make any sense, but Keith thought highly of him and… more than just that, _wanted him around_.

Lance stalked towards his assignment with new resolve. He couldn’t give less of a shit what the Garrison wanted from him, but he couldn’t let Keith down and cause him any more trouble. He had someone worth being loyal to in his life now, and he _wouldn’t _fuck this up.

* * *

“Lance?” Keith called out and heard his voice echo metallically back. “You in here?” Nobody responded.

Stepping inside, there was evidence of Lance’s presence; polish and rags on the floor, telling Keith he had guessed right on where he’d be.

“Keith?”

He nearly jumped up in surprise when Lance climbed down from the chassis he was cleaning, startled by his sudden appearance, then—

Oh, shit. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

It was warm in here, sure, but did he _need _to take off the suit jacket and wear just an oil-stained white tank top? Okay, no, there wasn’t anything weird about that. _Keith _was the one being weird, and he knew he needed to look away but it was _so damn hard—_

“Why’re you here?” Lance didn’t seem to be picking up on his staring, at least. Keith gulped, tried to formulate an appropriate sentence.

“Just wanted to, uh, check on you. See how you were doing.” He noticed how Lance’s arms were well-defined, not quite as thin as the rest of him. Forced his eyes to the floor. “Do you… need any help?”

“I’m not supposed to _get _help,” Lance answered, climbing down to the floor to pick up a new rag, brushing his hair aside absently and commanding Keith’s attention back against his will. “This is my punishment, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” Keith exhaled, slowly and methodically forced out every word at the right pitch and tone. Why why why why _why. _

“I could use the company, though. It gets pretty boring alone in here.”

Keith nodded stiffly. He felt suddenly sick, shaky, like he should leave before he gave something away. But if Lance _wanted _him here, he’d stay.

He sat on the floor, entertained Lance with some stories of things he’d seen and heard around the school, snuck glances at him and felt sick with himself.

Lance was his _friend. _Would he still be if he knew the kind of shameful, disgusting thoughts—

“You okay?” Out of nowhere Lance was leaning over him, frowning with an eyebrow raised in concern. “You look kind of like something’s bothering you.”

Keith shook his head so quickly he almost pulled a muscle in his neck. “Just got distracted.”

“You sure?” The way Lance was examining him with his head turned to that angle reminded Keith that Lance was good at spotting a lie, and _he _was an especially shitty liar. “It’s okay if it’s something you don’t want to talk about, but… I’m just worried.”

Lance was worried about him? Keith wasn’t sure he’d _ever _heard someone say they were worried about him, ever. It was an odd, uncomfortable feeling that sank inside him like guilt. He shouldn’t make others worry about him, that wasn’t… that wasn’t something he was entitled to. _He_ should be the one worrying about Lance.

“It’s okay,” He hoped he could be technically honest enough with Lance to get out of this without giving away too much of the problem at hand. “There’s no point talking about it. Let’s just…” he searched for something, anything else to talk about, racked his mind. “You ever heard of the game Astromancy?”

That seemed to work. Lance sat down with his legs crossed next to Keith, opened a water bottle. Keith tried not to stare and failed miserably.

“I’m supposed to try it out sometime with Pidge and Hunk. No idea what it’s like, but it sounds fun.”

“Uhm.” Keith felt fidgety and restless, wished he could turn away from Lance without it being rude, just so his voice could become level and controlled again. “That’s great, because I was gonna suggest we do something like that, together, sometime, but if you already have someone to teach you that’s great_._” The pitch and speed of his voice were both unwillingly turned up higher and higher as he kept talking. Christ, what was this so _hard _all of a sudden?

Lance smiled. “You should come, too, then. It’d be more fun with you.”

“Oh. That’s… I’d love to.” He sounded like an idiot, he _knew _he sounded like an idiot, but by some blessing from beyond Lance didn’t seem to be picking up on it- he was probably too tired from the cleaning he’d done.

“Cool.” His smile never stopped making Keith’s heart race, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. Jesus.

* * *

“Roll for charisma,” Pidge announced, passing the die to Sven. “Good luck.”

With an intense expression, Sven tossed it down onto the table, everyone holding their breath. Finally, it landed with a nineteen facing upwards.

Hunk whistled. “That was lucky.”

“So, I seduce the tavern-keeper successfully?” Sven grinned eagerly.

Pidge pushed his glasses up. “Unfortunately, yes, you do. Y’know, eventually you’re gonna have to solve problems a different way.”

“But this tactic is working so well!”

Keith was still a little unhappy that Sven had invited himself, even though he _knew _he shouldn’t be; the game _was _more fun with five than four, but it just got on his nerves how Sven had taken the role that _he _was hoping to as having complementary combat stats to Lance’s ranger. It shouldn’t matter, he _knew _that, but still…

“Keith, your move?”

“Oh- Right. I reach into the tavern-keeper’s pocket while he’s… distracted, and try to get the spaceport security clearance pass he has.”

“Don’t fuck this up for us,” Lance says as he passes the die. “We’re counting on your sticky fingers.”

Hunk frowned. “You sure your stealth is high enough to try this during the daytime?”

Keith nodded seriously. He was a little surprised at himself for getting into character as a criminal mastermind this thoroughly.

He landed an eleven- looked over to Pidge with some trepidation. After apparently enjoying his ability to inflict stress and fear onto his players for a moment, he gave a nod of affirmation.

“Meathe successfully manages to grab not only the spaceport pass, but also a five hundred credit bill, while Galatea preoccupies the tavern-keeper with her five tongues. Arvik manages to get away from the unsuccessful brawl, but still took damage in the form of a black eye and can’t see properly from that side, so there’s a minus-five to accuracy until it heals. Jineveer managed to break even on the round of cards with no wins or losses. Where the team stands now, you’ve got three hours until the spaceport across town closes due to the magnetic storm Jineveer foresaw, and no means of quick transportation.”

“I say we steal a hovercraft,” Keith offered. “There should be a few still outside that Arvik can disable security on.”

Lance nods. “I like that idea.”

“Well, save it for next time— We need to leave off here for tonight.” Pidge shuffled through the pages on his notepad, wrote down a few last lines. “Tomorrow’s engineering lab starts at seven, and I haven’t slept in… well, a while.”

“Neither have I,” Hunk confessed nervously. “I’ve been really excited about this campaign, so I kinda stayed up thinkin’ about it.”

Pidge yawned and started putting away his books. “So, Lance and Sven- did you guys like Astromancy or what?”

Lance nodded. “It’s more fun than I thought it’d be. I like the characters we’ve got.”

“Agreed,” Sven grinned. “I finally get to live out my wildest dreams, after all.”

Keith grumbled and grabbed Sven by the arm. “Anyways, we’re gonna go and let you guys sleep. See you all tomorrow.”

After saying their good-nights, Keith and Sven headed back to their own wing of the dorm, Sven still looking irritatingly smug. Or maybe Keith was just being too sensitive.

* * *

Lance was loath to admit that anyone could sneak up on him, but he nearly fell off the roof when Pidge finally spoke.

“You doing okay? You usually don’t come out here, well… alone.”

Lance scowled as he tried to regain his composure; he’d been told that Baltons were masters of stealth, but he’d never actually been a victim of it before. “I don’t only smoke with Sven, you know. He just happens to climb up here a lot.”

“Okay, fine.” Pidge sat down next to him and wrinkled his nose. “Do you have any idea how bad pyrolysis by-products are for you?”

Lance shrugged. “Beats the alternative.”

The statement, delivered deadpan, achieved its goal of unsettling Pidge enough to throw him off _that _train of thought.

“Uh, okay. So- you’ve also been kinda quiet the last few days, and you just seemed… unsettled about something. So I was wondering what’s up.”

“I’m fine.” Lance was beginning to wish he’d brought something to drink— he wasn’t nearly inebriated enough for this conversation. “I’ve just been thinking about something. About, uh, Keith.”

Pidge cocked his head appraisingly, looking him over like a differential equation he was on the verge of solving. “What about him?”

“I… It’s nothing, really. Well— I don’t know.” Lance sighed and threw his cigarette off the roof; he didn’t want to smoke up the air if someone who didn’t like it was gonna be breathing it. “I guess I’m just trying to figure him out a little harder than I had to for anyone else. He doesn’t really act like that with anyone else, does he?”

“Act like what?”

“Get sort of edgy when you’re ignoring him when you’re with other people. I mean, he doesn’t _say _anything, but he gets weird whenever I start talking to Sven more than him or something.” It was surprisingly difficult to gather his thoughts into sentences, sounded strange to hear aloud after mulling it over for so many days. “He seems kind of insecure, which doesn’t make any sense because, y’know, he’s _Keith. _Nobody’s not gonna want to be his friend, and he’s pretty close to Sven anyways, so I don’t know why he’d care whether _I’m _paying attention to _him.”_

“You…” Pidge gave him an odd, curious but amused stare. “You really can’t tell?”

“Tell what?”

“Nevermind.” He looked over the horizon again with an annoyingly knowing smile. Lance wished he could know what it was that Pidge saw that he didn’t, but there was no point trying to keep up with a boy genius’s insight. “Anyways- I’m going back in. Don’t stay out here too late, okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance nodded. “I’ll follow you soon.”

Satisfied with his answer, Pidge climbed into the window and disappeared, leaving Lance alone with his thoughts once more.

Lance wished he could think of a straightforward explanation for the way Keith was acting. Not long ago at all, he would’ve decided that Keith wanted a lackey with absolute loyalty to him and only him but he’d since resolved that Keith wasn’t… _like _that. His worst fears about being tricked and used and manipulated weren’t going to come to fruition with Keith, not after he’d put everything on the line for him like that, and he wasn’t going to insult him with those kinds of thoughts anymore.

So what was it? Did Keith really care that much about what _Lance _thought of him?

It didn’t make any sense, and Lance couldn’t fit the pieces of the puzzle neatly into any preexisting script he had to explain away people’s behaviour. Keith didn’t seem to _want _anything from him, not that Lance could imagine, and he wasn’t just trying to mess with him— probably.

Maybe Keith didn’t think as highly of himself as the rest of the Academy did, after all.

And maybe— maybe he really _did _care that much what Lance thought of him.

The lauded class leader Keith Kogane was turning out to be pretty… _weird_. But Lance wouldn’t pretend he didn’t grow to like him more with every new piece of his true self that Keith revealed.


	6. Excursion

“Well.” A rustling of fabric and a deep, angry breath. “Very impressive.”

The instructor didn’t do a very good job of concealing the seething bitterness in his voice, Keith thought with a bit more smugness than he cared to admit. He really _had_ been trying to flunk them, after all. Unfortunately, computerized scoring algorithms meant that he couldn’t evade the facts; he and Lance had completed a perfect run.

The rest of the class murmured in quiet excitement, as one does when a hated authority figure is publicly embarrassed. They might have not been able to partake, but they were witness to this humiliation, and that was enough; Keith wasn’t one to put the opinions of his peers above the esteem of his superiors, but the situation was slightly different with this particular instructor, considering his role in creating a general environment of misery for his students. Plus, they’d created an impossible corner for him- or anyone else involved, for that matter— with regards to dismissing Lance’s capabilities and holding him back. Keith had been clear with the disciplinary committee that he’d leave if they got rid of Lance, but now there was hard qualitative evidence to support his faith in him. The knowing half-smile on Lance’s face said he knew it, too.

Keith nodded in overstarched politeness, allowing the thrill of the moment to settle on his shoulders. He snuck Lance a grin as the instructor turned back towards the rest of the students.

“The rest of you will be receiving a remedial exam, so don’t get too excited about Kogane and McClain’s achievement.” Surprisingly enough, there was no groan of frustration or moment of silent defeat that fell across the room; once again, it had been worth it to see their unbeloved instructor turn red and impotently furious.

* * *

Lance seemed puzzled, and somewhat suspicious, of the situation unfolding. Not exactly unusual for him. “If we’re not doing the remedial exam, what are we supposed to do tomorrow?”

The teacher’s assistant shrugged. “Whatever you want. Consider it a day off.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. Aside from half of Sundays, the Garrison didn’t do days off. He wondered if he could exercise his privilege as a Kogane to stretch the luxury a little further.

“Ma’am- do you think I could get your permission to borrow a rover for the day?”

* * *

Lance didn’t recognize any of the plants or animals here, but he figured that the rules his father taught him still applied, to some extent. Black or purple fruits were probably edible; white ones probably poisonous, red not worth risking. There were some green leafy weeds that looked pretty close to the stuff they’d picked to cook with potatoes, too. He finally looked up from the trail when he realized that Keith had stopped walking, pulling the battered map from his pocket and scrutinizing the pencil marks on it.

“I think there’s gonna be a trail to the right with a red marker. Then it’s about an hour up the slope until we get there.” He wiped his forehead off with his hand, looking exhausted by the heavy knapsack he was carrying but nonetheless enthusiastic. To be honest with himself, Lance hadn’t considered Keith likely to be the outdoorsy type at all; he seemed more like someone who stuck to the inner bounds of training fields and cockpits. But it had been his idea to come out and show Lance the state outside of the academy grounds. Three hours to the West, the land was practically unrecognizable, an abrupt shift from orange desert to green scrub to montane woodland not entirely unlike back then.

Lance hoisted up his bags and nodded, feeling almost disturbed about how at ease he felt out here. Any moment now, he might expect to see a familiar landmark, one of those boulders or trees by which he’d remembered which area of the valley they were passing the flock through. But this was an entirely different planet, in a different part of the universe.

_I don’t want to think about this._ He stared up into the sky, the sting of sunlight directly in his eyes an almost welcome distraction from the paths his thoughts were taking without his permission. What a shitty way to spend a day off.

“I think that’s our sign,” Lance pointed at a rusty metal arrow nailed into a tree stump. “Right?”

Keith nodded, looking first surprised then impressed. “I nearly missed that. You’ve got a good eye, Lance.”

Compliments from Keith still made him bristle. They weren’t as easy to reject as attempts at manipulation or control as with others, especially not since Keith had… “It’s just what I’m used to doing,” he grumbled. “You’re getting too lost in the scenery.”

Keith looked at him apologetically, slowing his pace so that they could walk side-by-side. “Sorry. It’s just… I forgot how nice it is out here. I haven’t been in these mountains since I was a kid.” He startled Lance with a brush of his hand, making him resist the urge to jump back. He was starting to feel comfortable around Keith, but… when in an unfamiliar environment, he couldn’t help but fall back into old habits. Keith pulled what looked like a spiny seed pod out of his hair. “You got a burr on your head.”

“Burr?”

“They’re sticky,” Keith replied, as if that explained anything at all. He must have noted Lance’s confusion, since he demonstrated by attaching it to his shirt. It clung like velcro, or some kind of medal to his chest. “When we finally get there I bet we’ll find a hundred on our clothes between us.”

Lance hummed his acceptance of the explanation, pulling the burr off of Keith and throwing it away, surprised with how strongly such a tiny and fragile-looking thing actually managed to stick to him.

“So you know something about this place already, then,” Lance mused, looking away from Keith as a sudden rush of embarrassment hit him. It was frustrating beyond belief that the safer he felt with Keith, the more he _wanted_ to be close to him... the sharper and thornier his feelings felt, like something inside him was trying to put up barbed wire fences as a new layer of protection. And whatever that was, he wanted to give it a big _fuck-you_ and push through it. He couldn’t stand the idea of losing what he’d managed to find within Keith, even if he wasn’t sure what words he wanted to use to describe it just yet. “You used to come here?”

Keith nodded. He looked completely different here than he did at the Academy- peaceful, content, yet almost childishly eager. “I had an instructor who took me and some of the other army brats he taught on hikes some weekends. My parents and I lived in the Garrison town not far from here back then. He said it was to train endurance and pathfinding, you know, Boy Scout stuff- but I think he knew all of us could use some time away from life at the Academy.” His smile shifted slightly, like a note going off-key. “I mean… it’s not like we got many other chances to just be _kids_, do stuff just because it made us happy and not to show off to anyone.”

Lance felt like he saw something sad in his smile emerge for a moment, before being neatly tucked away behind his lips again. Keith was looking through the world in front of him into one that existed long ago; one that would never exist again outside of those memories. He knew that feeling all too well, but for all the shit that happened to him… at least Lance had good memories _with_ his family instead of just the ones away from them. It didn’t seem like Keith had that, from what limited information he’d given about his past. Lance wasn’t about to pry. After all, Keith was one of the few people who was respectful enough not to do that to him. Most of the time.

They walked most of the remainder of the way in a comfortable silence, except for Lance occasionally asking about some plant he was curious about or Keith pointing out some of the animals hiding in the brush. The woodpeckers- that’s what they called them- cracked Lance up. They just smashed their heads against the wood trying to get into it, past the hard exterior and probably giving themselves concussions in the process, for what? A grub or something?

Keith shook his head. “Not just that. Once they manage to get into it, the heartwood is pretty soft. They build their in nests there.”

* * *

“I can’t believe how long that took us.”

It was nearly two by the time they’d managed to reach the destination; a clearing at the estuary between the mountaintop lake and the river that led downwards from it, flanked by scraggly pine trees that barely held onto the lichen-crusted granite of the ground. Keith kicked the largest of the trees and looked upwards.

“We need to hang the food up on that branch, away from where we sleep. So the bears don’t try to get at it.”

“Bears.” Lance’s eyes narrowed. “Uh, when you told me about this whole trip idea you didn’t mention bears.” He never encountered any growing up, but he’d heard about them well enough not to want to sleep anywhere near their territory.

Keith shrugged, apparently completely unconcerned. “They don’t like approaching humans if they can avoid it, and summer is berry season, so they’re not hungry enough to risk it.”

“Okay, but what if they do?”

“That’s what the pistol is for.”

Lance frowned. “You’re lucky I’m a light sleeper.” The last time Lance had slept heavily, he thought, was probably in a sleeping bag in the mountains- in a place not unlike this.

Two sleeping bags were unrolled and left on a pile of dried pine needles, alongside bags of clothing, supplies and more than a few weapons. Lance was actually glad to have the chance to use a machete again, cutting up dry brush for kindling and clearing weeds out from the black mark that was the only indicator of a long-abandoned fire-pit. He rolled a rock under his foot, observing that it had probably been several years since the last time anyone had been here. Considering the length and severity of the journey up, that wasn’t totally surprising.

Keith handed him a rations bar- not the worst-tasting thing in the world, but not the best either. “Here’s lunch.”

Lance grouchily unwrapped and ate the bar within two bites, not having realized how hungry he was from the exhaustion of making it up the mountainside. He took in their surroundings, accessing a sort of memory- or instinct- he hadn’t realized was still there. Something dark and shadowy was moving alongside the banks of the stream.

He grinned. Maybe dinner would be a little better.

“Hey, Keith- watch this.”

* * *

Keith couldn’t help but feel nervous with Lance perched above the extremely rocky and turbulent river, even knowing full well it wasn’t the first or even dozenth time Lance was doing… whatever this was. He had known, in just the words of it, that Lance had spent most of his childhood in the wild or in a village small enough that it might as well have been; but he’d never really appreciated what that meant. He had a hundred questions, but something told him now was not the time to ask. He mirrored Lance’s perfect silence, watching him watch the silver ripples of the river with the intent of a hawk.

After maybe ten minutes- though just how long had passed was difficult to gauge, when Lance had stayed as still as a statue- a hand plummeted into the water like a spear and emerged holding a thrashing, forearm-sized fish.

Lance smiled broadly at him, his free hand reaching for the knife on his belt. “Looks like I managed to get us dinner.”

Keith could only nod, lost for words and fumbling for language. “Uh… wow.”

“They swim along the inner banks to reduce friction. If you can sit still long enough and have a good grip, they come right to you.”

“That’s, uh.” Keith gulped. Sometimes the faculty of communicating with Lance just dissipated out of nowhere, like a spotty comm device in foreign territory. It was frustrating how it was only becoming more and more common the closer they got- it seemed like talking to him should be getting easier, by any rational measure. “Impressive. Really cool.”

Lance appraised his bumbling comment with the now-headless fish in hand. “Thanks. Now, can you get me a good stick to skewer this on? And you’ll need to hold this while I sharpen the end.”

* * *

“That was actually pretty good.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Everything tastes better when you cook it on an open fire.” Lance threw the bones into the campfire, hearing it sizzle as it hit the wall of flames.

Keith poked it with a stick, watching Lance across the other side, his face framed by orange tendrils of heat and light that seemed to merge directly with him. “Did you do this a lot? I mean, when you were a kid.”

Lance shrugged, turned his attention to something he was carving out of a chunk of pine. It was hard to make out what he was making, but it looked a little like a figurine of an animal. “Sometimes.”

Musing on what he needed to ask to actually figure something out, Keith leaned forward. “When’d you learn this stuff? Like, when you were in that village, or-“

“Keith.” A piece of the carving flew into the fire from the sheer force of it being cut off. “Don’t.”

A heavy lump of guilt fell onto Keith’s gut. “Sorry.”

Lance made a huff of acceptance, kept working on whatever he was carving in a suddenly tense silence. Keith cursed himself for messing up, not noticing how he might be coming on. There was a lot about Lance that was still difficult for him to parse, difficult in an additional way that other people just weren’t. He’d think he had planned the correct course of action, the right words to say- and things would go opposite to every prediction. And sometimes he’d find himself blurting out the worst possible thing, completely contrary to any calculation. Lance was… uncharted, encrypted, foreign territory. He was still learning his language, but it was a steep learning curve.

Lance pulled a flask out from the inside of his jacket. He seemed to be silently challenging the Golden Boy to say something to him about it, just to see if he would. Keith felt a sudden urge to prove him wrong.

“You got enough for two?”

* * *

The water was warmer than Lance had expected, considering the amount of shade that they were under. Pointy, star-like flowers sat on floating disc-shaped leaves, and reeds poked out of undisturbed crannies. Maybe going swimming right after drinking wasn’t the best idea... But it should be fine, as long as they didn’t get out too far. Probably.

It must have been years since the last time Lance went for a swim- wasn’t there a pool at the Academy that was available to students? In any case, he felt sort of weird about being nearly naked in front of people. Kind of defenceless.

“Nothing in here is gonna bite you, if you were worried.”

Keith was already swimming laps around him. Lance splashed water at his face.

“I’m just getting used to the water,” Lance insisted, carefully wading in and trying to turn to face Keith as little as possible; he was suddenly very aware of how scrawny and pasty Keith must think he looked. This was exactly why he liked to rush to be the first one in and out of the locker room after training.

“Want some help?”

Before Lance could ask what the hell he meant, Keith had pulled him into the open water with a resounding splash.

It was actually pretty warm- still refreshing, but not as cold as he’d feared. Calming, peaceful, silent as he stayed under for a couple of seconds, remembering what it felt like to be underwater.

When Lance re-emerged, he spat a mouthful of lake water at Keith. “Jackass.”

Keith was grinning mischievously, and Lance couldn’t help but get over his annoyance. So maybe the liquor had loosened the Boy Scout up a little, he thought to himself with a slight smile.

“Since when do you pull pranks on people?”

“I’m working on building up a wild side.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“What, this wasn’t enough proof for you?” Keith was floating on his back now, looking far more serene than Lance had probably ever seen him. He was watching the birds passing overhead, black darts in the sky that had its colour mirrored in his eyes, smiling gently. “I’ll try to come up with something more impressive.”

“Hmm.” A warm and peaceful feeling surrounded Lance just watching him; he felt content to see _him _content. “I look forward to it.”

* * *

There wasn’t any sort of beach by the lake; just a giant slab of stone that slowly tipped into the water, its upper part making a perfect place to dry off and get warmed by the sun after swimming.

Lance stretched out into a giant cross with his limbs, eager to let the water evaporate so that he could put his clothes on. In the corner of his eye he saw Keith roll onto his stomach, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, hair still dripping wet and covered in beads of water.

“That was pretty refreshing, huh?”

Lance turned his head slightly. “Yeah. Would’ve preferred a cold shower, but still.”

“But do showers come with a view? Out here it’s- _Jesus!_” Keith jumped up so suddenly Lance nearly reached for the pistol.

“What?” Lance looked over and saw a small lizard sunning itself next to Keith’s shirt, next to his recoiled hand. He smirked. “Keith, don’t tell me that you were freaked out and screamed because of that.”

“I didn’t scream,” Keith grumbled. “It just surprised me is all.” He shuddered. “It felt all rough and scaly.”

Lance snickered, enjoying the frustrated embarrassment growing on Keith’s face as he went on. “I don’t like lizards, okay? One time when I was a little kid I got lost and I tried to sit down- one of them crawled on me! Its feet were sticky and-“

“I can’t believe it. Keith Kogane is scared of lizards.” Lance couldn’t help but laugh openly, enjoying the sight of Keith’s cheeks darkening.

“I’m not scared of them, I just don’t like them!”

Lance could barely speak through the laughter. “Does anyone at the Garrison know your hidden weakness? Your dark secret?”

Keith scowled halfheartedly. “Fuck off.”

“Woah there, the Wonder Cadet can swear?”

“Eat shit!”

“Not bad.”

Keith failed to keep his straight face up, chuckling as he picked up his shirt and whipped Lance in mock offendedness. His hair stuck to his neck and shoulders, and Lance noticed- well, he was sort of—

He lay back down on the hot surface of the rock, suddenly on edge, those irritating, confusing thoughts clouding his mind out of nowhere. Above him, the actual sky was crystal clear and rang with the sound of cicadas, their trills buzzing like the electricity in his chest forcing him to look away from Keith.

* * *

By the time they’d finally dried off enough to change into clean clothes and head back into the camp, dusk had fallen. There were waterfowl on the lake casting ripples across the otherwise-perfect mirror of the lavender sky. The cicadas had been replaced by crickets, and the ridges of more distant, taller mountains were black smudges on the horizon.

They sat by the fire pit a while longer, bringing it back to a roar after it had smouldered to embers while they were swimming. A kettle placed onto the rocks whistled within moments and let them prepare some packets of hot chocolate, Lance once again producing his whiskey to top up the cups and render them even more warming. They pretended to clink the paper cups in a toast before drinking.

Now Lance’s face was lit from below with an oddly familiar yellow light. Keith sat next to him, hoping he wasn’t being overbearing as he moved from the other side of the pit, but- it was nicer like this. Shadows flickered across his face and onto the backdrop of trees surrounding them.

“Lance?”

He looked towards him, his messed-up hair glowing like hot copper wires. “Yeah?”

“Are you…” Keith stared into his cup, hoping that any second now the spirits would make him feel a little more socially capable. “Are you enjoying this whole thing?”

Lance took a sip before answering him. “Actually, yeah. I wasn’t sure I would, but it’s more good than… not good.” He knocked shoulders with Keith teasingly, resting against him fleetingly like a moth brushing the flame. “It’s good to know your flight sim partner isn’t totally useless in a survival scenario, too.”

Keith wanted— craved leaning into Lance’s touch. It disturbed him how badly he wanted it, like it was some essential element he never knew he needed to really, truly be alive. It sat like an anchor between his ribs, pulling him down and making it so damn hard not to destroy all the trust he’d worked so hard to build with Lance with one wrong move- or word. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- ruin this friendship by getting all weird and desperate and…

What was it? He felt the words lurking right below the calm, stable surface he was now struggling to maintain on the exterior. He knew, he _knew_ what this was; but if he said it, it’d be real. And that wasn’t acceptable, wasn’t available as a route of action. He hated it.

He finally responded, still feeling that sinking, drowning feeling within him.

“I’m glad.”

“I kinda feel bad saying this,” Lance began, resting his head on Keith’s shoulder completely without warning. “But I’m glad it was just us who came up here. I mean, it would’ve been a lot of fun with the rest of the guys- I bet Sven is the kind of weirdo who knows how to hunt stuff, really big animals.”

He looked unusually serene watching the fire begin to die down, and by the way Lance leaned onto him, it wasn’t even a big deal from his perspective. Once again, Keith felt sickened by his own inability to not overreact to what was apparently so easy for everyone else. He hated admitting that it still prickled him when Lance brought up Sven. He was his friend too, after all.

“But— it’s kind of nice when it’s as few people as possible.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “So… you’d prefer it if I wasn’t here?” He hoped it came across as a joke.

“Hmm.” Lance mumbled. “I mean, you are warm.”

Keith let out a chuckle and allowed himself a limited, controlled amount of leaning back into Lance. “Fair enough.”

* * *

“Fuck.” Lance looked angry that he couldn’t keep his teeth from chattering. “I didn’t think it got this cold at night. It was really hot all day.”

Keith swallowed anxiously, running a dozen mental calculations in tandem to try and determine whether he’d be overstepping his bounds. Eventually he gave it up; none of the moves he planned ever landed properly with Lance, anyways.

“We could zip our sleeping bags together,” he offered finally, hoping he was sounding _normal_ about it. “It- it would help conserve body heat.”

Lance turned towards him, nodded. It was… that easy?

Keith hoped his hands weren’t visibly shaking as he fiddled with the zipper, attaching the two bags to one another into a single large pocket of polyester lining. Lance rolled towards him without, it seemed, so much as a second thought. Maybe this had been normal for him with his family, growing up…

“You comfortable?” Lance murmured nearly but not quite close enough to touch.

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Lance went silent, left Keith feeling stiff and awkward and nervous to make the wrong motion and set off some disastrous chain reaction of friendship-killing mistakes. How was it that he’d gone from practically drawing a blade if Keith got too close to leaning onto him like furniture as soon as Keith had won his trust? Had he been waiting for someone trustworthy he could act this way around?

How did Lance feel about him…?

It wasn’t something that Keith wanted to process right now. It felt like it’d take too much of some kind of energy within him that was already drained from wrestling with his emotions all day. It was supposed to be a relaxing day off, and it would’ve been; if he could’ve just been normal about it.

The amount of thoughts that ran through Keith’s head when he tried to sleep some nights practically felt physically painful. After a while he noticed that Lance seemed agitated, mumbling something that Keith couldn’t for the life of him make out. Maybe it wasn’t even in English- he couldn’t tell.

Keith figured that the discomfort in his mind and body probably couldn’t get much worse; and even if they could, helping Lance was a priority over his fear. He pulled closer, gently tried to wake him up with a touch. It took barely a brush of his fingers for Lance to jolt awake, his breathing irregular and his body trembling. The way he shook was- it seemed entirely out of control, like something dark was stirring inside his mind and gripping his body from the inside out. Keith had felt something kind of like that, before… something he felt loath to admit happened, even to only himself. But if it was _Lance, _the situation was different.

“Hey- what’s wrong?” Keith wasn’t afraid to admit he was concerned. He’d never seen Lance in a situation like this, and honestly, he’d had no clue what to expect- besides things he’d imagined late at night and dutifully banished to the back of his mind the next morning.

Lance didn’t respond. Keith fought through a barrage of well-engraved mental directories telling him not to and got closer— wrapped his arms around Lance, careful and cautious for some sort of pushback. Instead, all he felt was the uneven shakiness of Lance’s body, the way he curled his shoulder blades up to his ears; He was fighting it off and trying to repress it, the tremors full of anger at his escaping emotions. He could recognize it because he had known something like this feeling and the infuriating helplessness that came with it.

“This is stupid,” Lance muttered, sounding like his teeth were grit with frustration. “I barely have those dreams anymore.”

Keith rested his head on Lance’s back and rubbed his hands up and down along his arms in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture, following the hint of tension disappearing from his back. He didn’t want to pry, but he didn’t want to leave Lance alone with his thoughts either. “It’s a nightmare?”

“Kind of.” Lance’s breathing slowly became a regular rhythm, and he relaxed against Keith, taking up every inch of free space between them like liquid flowing into a vessel. “Just… things I don’t think about during the day. You know.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith replied, talking into the fabric on Lance’s shoulder. “I took you here. I brought your past up before, too. It’s my fault.”

Lance laughed humourlessly. “It happens anywhere. Not a lot I can do about it.” He sighed and curled his knees up slightly. “Just wish you didn’t have to see it.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have tried to talk about it to you. I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.” Lance was still a little shaky, a little tense, but he never pulled away. His hair smelled like pine needles. They lay in silence for a while, breathing patterns falling into sync.

Lance broke the silence.

“I learned to carve things from my uncle. He was a craftsman, made all kinds of stuff, whatever you needed. But when there was time he’d make these little wooden… dolls, I guess you could call them. Animals, not humans. Birds or fish or livestock, whatever. I wanted to make them too, but I never had the patience to finish them.”

Keith listened quietly, intently. There were some things that Lance would tell him when he felt like it, when he felt like he could say it. Things that weren’t his to ask, but maybe Lance would decide he could know anyways.

“I guess I just liked any excuse to cut things up with a knife, too. I’d carve things into trees so I could remember if I came back there, or so others would know I’d been there. Tried to carve into stone, but I didn’t have anything sharp enough.” Lance pulled himself a little more tightly into his arms- or maybe he was just imagining it. “So I guess it’s all burned down now. No records of anything.”

Keith felt like there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t sound trite. So he gave his answer to the story with a squeeze.

“Uhm- Keith?”

There was a note of a smile in Lance’s voice when he spoke again, quietly, in a tone that Keith didn’t know quite how to interpret- except maybe as a comfortable kind of shyness that he’d never expected to hear from _him_. “Thanks for… this.”

Keith felt a wave of warmth clear out what remained of his heavy, uncomfortable thoughts and replace them with a golden glow- with happiness, that he was able to help even a little. Maybe he was imagining things in Lance’s tone because _he _somehow felt both comfortable and shy in their tentative closeness that, he reminded himself, _he’d _initiated- a paradox between his burning cheeks and how easily his arms rested on Lance’s sides. He’d figure out what it was safe to call this feeling, eventually. “Yeah. Anytime.”

“Mm.” Lance still didn’t pull away from him. Probably because it was cold out, or because he’d already gotten himself comfortable and didn’t feel like moving again, but maybe, just maybe— “G’night, Keith.”

Lance was a radiant heat source that, every once in a while, sent out sparks that ignited Keith’s entire body with this feeling he dared not name. Still, he didn’t want to turn away from the flame.

“Goodnight, Lance.”

* * *

By the time Lance woke up, Keith had finished most of the packing without him. He stretched and surveyed the almost-clear campsite- besides some new chunks of charcoal in the fire-pit, it looked like they’d never been there.

“Why didn’t you wake me up for help?” Lance grumbled, feeling both guilty and caffeine-deprived.

“Didn’t need it.” Keith threw a granola bar for Lance to catch before setting down a thermos. “I figured you could use the rest. Did you… sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” Lance felt strange about knowing how much vulnerability he’d shown against his will the night before, just out of the amalgam of circumstances they’d been in. Still, Keith had—

Lance bit his lip. He felt an involuntary shiver even though the heat of day was already picking up.

Keith was someone he wasn’t afraid to be weak around. That idea in itself was terrifying.

It wasn’t something he entirely understood his feelings about.

But nonetheless, while Keith was busy with the sleeping bags, he slipped something into his bag, just into the front pocket. He’d managed to finish carving that woodpecker after all.


	7. Rings

Lance sat on the edge of Keith’s bed, scrolling through a series of photos with a grin growing wider by the second.

“Well, I told you I was working on that wild side.”

“Yeah, but-“ Lance looked at him with some novel sort of appreciation. “How’d you even get past security? Even vacant facilities are locked up well and have major safeguards on them.”

Keith shrugged and brushed his hair back, hoping for a cool and nonchalant appearance. “Pidge helped me. It wasn’t that hard.”

“Hmm.”

Looking back at the evidence of his off-limits exploration that Lance was now going through, Keith was pretty surprised with _himself- _before meeting Lance, he couldn’t imagine doing so much as skipping his homework, let alone breaking and entering into an abandoned observation deck for kicks. Not to say there hadn’t been _other _people influencing him with their own delinquency, but… he had to admit to himself that his primary goal _was _impressing Lance, in what he figured would be the best method for a guy like him. Breaking away the image of himself as a goody two-shoes that Lance apparently had, too.

“Show me the way in tonight. I wanna see.”

Keith tried not to look too taken aback. “Well…”

Lance leaned forward towards him. “C’mon- I’m good at sneaking around. If it’s just us two, there’s no way we’ll get caught.”

“I guess so,” Keith muttered. “If you want.”

He was not so much nervous about the rule-breaking part as the _nighttime-excursion-with-Lance-in-private _part. Ever since they’d come back from camping, he’d been thinking about it every night, how close he’d gotten and how much he might’ve shown and how _risky _that had been. It didn’t seem that forbidden or frightening to break into some abandoned buildings, in comparison to _that._

But Lance hadn’t brought it up, hadn’t acted much different around him- even though Keith had been watching closely for signs that he was getting uncomfortable, wary of him as he caught on to what Keith desperately wanted to hide and contain and destroy-

“I’ll meet you at my door at twelve, then.” Lance wasn’t stepping off; if anything, he was a little more comfortable getting close to him, gave a few more smiles. Maybe… maybe it was pity, he knew and he just felt sorry for Keith being so screwed up. But was that something Lance would do? He seemed pretty blunt, most of the time, so if he knew something... he’d say it, right?

“Uh huh,” Keith nodded quickly, realizing he’d been completely zoned out for a minute. “I’ll be there.”

“Cool.” Lance gave him what felt like a real smile, but he couldn’t be sure-

“And, Keith- bring your binoculars. I want your help finding something.”

* * *

Nearly every night was clear out in the desert, and there weren’t nearly enough people in the region to produce too much light- it made for good stargazing. All these constellations and vantage points on the universe were entirely new to Lance, and he didn’t know their names or how they were supposed to look like whatever they were, but he was more interested in looking for something else tonight. There was a planet he’d read about, that he hoped he might get to see if they looked up from here- and maybe Keith knew where to look.

Keith climbed up after him onto the roof, and stood beside him. He still seemed a little unnerved at doing something this rebellious, if his flustered face was anything to go by.

“It’s a good view up here, huh?” Lance stepped in a little closer and it looked like Keith was startled for a second, before he relaxed again and nodded in reply.

“There’s a new moon too, which makes everything else in the sky stand out more.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “New moon? Where? …How long has it been here?”

“Ah- it’s not, well, _actually _a new moon. That’s what you call it when the moon isn’t visible because it’s in the sun’s shadow.” Keith looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re not from here.”

“It’s okay,” Lance leaned against Keith tentatively, with the excuse of wanting to look from his viewpoint at the sky, unsure himself of why he was looking for an excuse at all. “You can teach me about it, right?”

Keith beamed. “Yeah, I mean- it’s been a while since I did much looking at the sky, but I remember some stuff from when I was a kid. I remember we learned how to orient ourselves with the night sky, and most of the constellations.” He pointed to a particularly bright spot. “That one’s not a star, though. It’s a planet.”

Lance tried to focus his binoculars where Keith was pointing. “What’s it called?”

“Mars; it also used to get called the red planet.”

“It doesn’t look very red to me.”

“Not since they tried to terraform it. Now it’s just sort of brown and grey.” Keith’s voice got a little sad, like Mars was a personal friend who had gotten sick. “I guess I’m mad about it, a little; the Alliance started the first terraforming project there centuries ago, but ended up abandoning it once we discovered more habitable planets in other star systems. I wish I could’ve seen it back when it was really red. I’ll bet it was beautiful.”

“Maybe it’ll turn red again,” Lance suggested. “I mean, eventually it’ll change back to the way it was before they messed with it.”

Keith seemed to perk up a little at the idea. “I hope you’re right. Hope it happens before I die, too.”

“_And _before _I _die- I wanna see it too, now that you told me about it.” Lance felt unusually relaxed, listening to Keith talk about something he loved so much; he hadn’t even known that Keith liked stargazing and astronomy before he had the idea to come up here, but something about his kiddish excitement and awe made his chest feel so warm it nearly hurt. He didn’t know why, or where this feeling came from, and he couldn’t tell whether he liked it or not. “Keith- you really like this space stuff. Is that why you came to the Academy?”

He shook his head. The way the corner of his mouth twitched, Lance thought he saw a trace of bitterness in his smile. “I came because that’s what was expected of me. Everyone in my family’s gone to either this place or another Alliance-run military academy. But… my parents let me join the Space Explorer stream, so at least I might be able to do that someday.”

“Oh.” Lance desperately wished he was the kind of person who was good with words out loud and not just on paper. “What do you mean, ‘do that’? Explore space?”

“Go off-planet and… yeah, explore. Discover stuff, past all these stars, new worlds and places. Be free for a while.”

_Free for a while. _Lance watched Keith’s eyes shine as he watched the sky with a new understanding. He wasn’t usually that… _open, _about himself. If Lance asked about it when he looked unhappy or distracted or concerned, he’d always turn it back around, ask about _him _instead. It made sense if he’d been raised to be the perfect soldier his entire life; showing weakness, physical or emotional or mental, wasn’t something he allowed himself to do. No matter how perfect and well-composed he looked on the outside, there was still something hurting inside, a part of him that felt scared and angry and resentful and _trapped. _He let Lance have a glimpse of himself, probably not on purpose, just now.

Lance tried to think of something to say that Keith wouldn’t fire back at with denial or dismissal, the way he usually did if Lance tried to worry about _him _once in a while, but something was caught in his throat. He instead pulled an arm around Keith and gave a sort of side-hug, felt his posture become rigid in surprise then settle against him.

“I don’t know if you even like Earth or not, Lance. If you want to stay or… why _did _you go into the program?”

There it was- turning the question back. At least he showed a little more honesty about his feelings than usual, tonight. “I was sort of… recruited for it, once we all got tested for placement. Y’know, me and the other Alliance wards in my cohort. We all end up in the Academy as far as I know, to try and get some use out of us, I guess.” Lance laughed at his own dark joke, a jab at the fucked-up fate that the universe had handed him, and Sven, and Pidge… and too many others to count. “I guess something must’ve impressed them, since I got put forward a year and recommended into the Space Explorer track, even though it’s probably too prestigious for me. They didn’t try to kick me out, either- until, well, the time you stopped them.”

Keith’s head rested on his shoulder, and even though the night was cold Lance felt like he was overheating. “Because you’re really, really good. I know we’ve only ever done sim flights, but I bet you’d do even better in the real thing. The open sky, or space, or wherever you want to go.” Hearing compliments from Keith had always made Lance feel sort of overwhelmed, like he’d knocked a wall over with his words, but tonight more than ever. Like he’d gotten past a new level of security, or something. This was a serious breach and yet, he didn’t want to get angry and turn away- all he could do was give a small, abashed grin as a layer of armour fell off from the attack Keith didn’t even know he’d dealt.

“Well, if you still wanna be my flight partner when we’re seniors… They let us do actual flight drills, then, right?”

“Yeah. I hope I get to fly with you, then.” Keith’s voice sounded warm, dangerously so to Lance- too good at pulling him in and his guard down.

“Hope so too.”

Keith pointed out some constellations for him, and what they got their names from; most from ancient stories and legends. Lance just listened to him quietly, and snuck glances away from the sky to look at him while he spoke; the way he seemed to light up brighter than anything else as he talked about those faraway stars. They both _knew _how many of those stars were really long-gone, just belated transmissions of light that came to Earth from long ago. But still, they shone here, alive or not.

It took a while until Lance remembered what he’d really wanted to see tonight. “Keith, there’s a planet that has rings around it, right? Can you see it from here?”

Keith took a moment to refocus on him, after getting so absorbed in identifying the patterns of stars. “Uh- let me think. I think Saturn should be visible tonight, but give me a minute to see if I can find it.” Lance watched as Keith scanned the sky, using his binoculars to check a few different spots before he grinned in accomplishment. “Here we go. Just between those two stars- that’s Saturn. It’s the one with the biggest rings, so I think that must be what you want.”

Lance tried to match up with the exact angle Keith had used, and after a few minutes saw the oblong shape of a planet with rings around the centre. He couldn’t see a lot of detail, even with the GA’s top-of-the-line military binoculars, but he could make out a blueish sphere with a wide ring looping around, but not quite touching it. “That’s the one. I didn’t know planets could have rings like that until I saw it in our textbook.”

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” Keith sounded eager and excited again. “This one is called Saturn after a god of agriculture. The other one- Mars- is named after a god of war.”

Lance frowned. “Doesn’t seem right to me. This one looks like it has a shield or something with the rings. I think you should switch the names.”

“Hey, I didn’t pick them. Besides, Mars looked more warlike when it was red, I think.”

“Fair enough.”

After they’d already gotten back to the dorms, Lance still felt some strange creeping feeling in his stomach- so it wasn’t anything to do with sneaking out, he guessed. Staring into the bathroom mirror, he was grateful it had been so dark out there. Had his face been this red all night? Maybe it was just because it was chilly, or-

Or what?

Whatever that uncomfortable feeling was, it had creeped back up into his chest, and it didn’t want to leave.

* * *

It hadn’t been a good day. It hadn’t been a good week, either. That agitation he’d felt since he went with Keith up on that observation deck was still not gone, had nested in his body and made itself at home. Lance knew he had a tendency to fall into these moods anyhow, but this felt stranger than the other times- he understood less of what was going on in his own damn head, was less sure of his footing than he’d been in _years._ He hated feeling this lost and out of control; needed something to orient himself with to get out of it.

A distraction. Something, anything.

“What’s bothering you?”

Even Sven wasn’t going to let it slide this time, and normally he knew well enough what was going on with Lance, not to poke the flames lest he feed them. It was a little unusual for him to betray that much concern, and it made Lance feel bad for not keeping it together well enough.

“The usual. I’m just— on edge, I guess.” Lance felt a little nauseous. It wasn’t like him to get this… wasted. He wasn’t a lightweight by any means, thanks to the tolerance he'd well established, but he _had _gone a little overboard tonight. Instead of drowning the anxieties sleeping inside him, the alcohol just made it worse; A storm of unidentifiable but intolerable feelings raged in his stomach. “I’m okay, Sven, Don’t worry 'bout me.”

Sven put an arm around him, probably disconcerted by how close to the ledge he was standing and the way he was staggering, pulled him back a little. “You don’t seem so.”

“Well, there’s nothin’ I can do about it,” Lance muttered, wishing he could at least _sound _sober, give some illusion that he had it together. “So drop it.”

Still, Sven wasn’t relenting. Fucking obnoxious viking bastard. “Let’s go inside. You look like you need to lie down.”

Lance grinned, felt the momentary relief of amusement at his own stupid mouth running. “Oh yeah? Where, on your bed?” He leaned in towards Sven and stumbled a little, falling further than he intended into his side as his coordination failed him. “N’ then what?”

A scoff of surprise. “Not when you’re drunk, idiot.”

“And if I wasn’t?”

Sven pulled away and took him by the elbow, attempting to guide him back inside and apparently intent on ignoring his unfiltered comments. “Come on. You really are… You really need to sleep it off.”

Lance allowed himself to be pulled along like an unruly child, with Sven doing his best to keep him quiet so he wouldn’t give away where he’d been and what he’d been drinking. Normally- he knew better than to be this loud and obvious, but some part of him kind of _wanted _to get into trouble, to start something bad. Then he remembered— some tiny, rational part of him remembered, that _him _getting into trouble meant _Keith _getting into trouble meant ruining _his _life and- even if he didn’t give two shits about himself…

“I wanna see Keith,” he mumbled as Sven half-kicked him into his room, looking at Pidge with an apologetic _he’s-your-problem-now. _“I gotta tell ‘im something.”

“It can wait until you’re coherent again.” Holy shit, Sven really _did _sound worried about him. What had he done that managed to break past _his _cool exterior? “Go to sleep.”

Lance heard Pidge complaining, and Sven leaving, but he kept his face buried into the cool pillow and stayed absorbed in the mess of thoughts that were crowding his brain and refusing to shut off. It was hard to pick them apart, figure out exactly _what _was even bothering him this much; just something _bad, _too many bad things to even decipher. Since when wasn’t it enough to just dissolve into a drink, or blow away as smoke, or fight away himself? What the hell was going on with him?

He didn’t know, but all the really wanted was a new distraction. Something big enough to crush the creeping unease without a name in his skull.

He had to kill it somehow before it got any stronger. The sooner he acted, the better.

* * *

Nobody ever asked for an ID in this store, no matter what you were getting. Lance figured most customers came around specifically for that reason- and any business was good business. He stuffed the bottle and packs into his coat and counted his change, just to make sure.

Sven had the charm to get these things cheaper elsewhere, and actually _had _a fake ID he could pass off pretty well with a handsome adultish grin— but he was actually spending his Sunday afternoon studying, for once. Apparently this semester’s navigation course actually gave him something he was interested in learning. Lance couldn’t say the same for his Alliance history readings; each time he had to pick up the damn book, he’d get angry again, thinking of just how much was missing or watered-down to make it less frightening and more encouraging to the young recruits. His birthworld wasn’t even mentioned, or even the Zarkonian incursion at all. All it had to offer were carefully anthologized tales of Alliance heroism, success and righteousness. Definitely not anything they’d failed to protect or save.

Upon exiting, he noticed a flyer on the billboard by the door advertising something for the local kids- the civilians who didn’t get to use flight sims or combat training to satisfy their need for excitement. A street race… with cars, the old-fashioned kind. Ancient models that, chances were, nobody cared about roughing up.

Lance grinned, then walked over to the costume shop on the next street. He had an idea for his distraction, now- but he _did _want to make sure there was no way he’d be identified doing it. He didn’t really care for himself, but Keith _had _put his neck out for him and promised no more problems with the Academy, so he’d need to cover his face.

What Keith didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, after all.


	8. Safe

Lance approached the crowd of contestants and watched their faces contort in confusion and suspicion; but when he showed the handful of cash, their reservations about the masked stranger changed to wary acceptance.

It felt good to not be known; to be able to set his fee into the prize pot and not see a glance of recognition from anyone there. He didn’t care about the money tonight, for once. It was a small price to pay for a chance for a few moments of a clear mind. These vehicles were clunky and sort of crude compared to anything he’d worked with before, but incredibly intuitive compared to a cockpit or the Academy’s armed rovers. Loud, too; far too noisy for the limited power these things’ engines had.

But maybe it’d be enough to drown out the intrusive, half-shadowed memories that swarmed like bats when they sensed weakness in his mind. He felt them bubble up, out from the blockades he’d constructed, and itched to get behind the wheel and into the track as soon as possible.

_Hi, there. Please don’t be scared- do you understand me?_

_…It’s alright, you can just nod your head, like this. Can you nod if you understand? Good._

_I’m here to take care of you. You’re safe now._

_You shouldn’t try to think about all that now, you’re still in bad shape from… when we found you. Just stay put, alright? Everything is going to be fine._

He grit his teeth, glad nobody could see his face; this race couldn’t start fast enough. The ride he’d paid for his place in was pretty and shiny on the outside, but what was that worth to him? He needed something fast and powerful, not just a nice-looking toy. Still, he figured he could push it further than anyone else could. This’d be child’s play.

_What’s his name?_

_I don’t know; he’s not speaking at all. But I don’t think he’s mute, it’s just… this may take some time, Sir._

_No agitation. Rather, he seems catatonic. At least he’s been rehydrated and has stable glucose levels- and he seems to understand what I say, so the translator earpiece is operational, even though this planet’s dialect of Drule is archaic._

_He’s the only one we found there?_

_Affirmative_ _\- the only one found alive, anyways._

_Ask McClain to supervise him. We’ll figure out what to do with the boy once we’re back on Earth._

_Yes, Sir._

A single gunshot signalled the start. Lance had already timed his acceleration perfectly to get the leading edge; he was good at anticipating the moment of action, the silent tension in the air that told him when to cut and run. It was always there, his awareness a hanging thread swinging in the wind that would go taut at the slightest sign of danger. He’d never be caught off guard again. Even as he slept, the thread remained, and without it- how could he know if he was safe?

_The sun had gone down and there’d been nobody left there, nobody else still living. He should have looked for some undamaged cloth sheets to cover them with, even if there was no way to do more of the ritual alone, but he’d been scared to approach them. Scared to see the glazed emptiness in eyes that had watched him his entire life, scared to see the contortions of their bodies and what parts were missing. And if he did- if he went and did that, he might find them, he'd see what had become of his family and then he would forever have to know._

Sharp turns jostled him and nearly put him out of control- centripetal force. Nothing built in to adjust for that with such a primitive machine.

_He should have done more. Two long nights alone with the ruins and the still-burning rubble and the remains of everyone he’d ever known. Their spirits must have been angry, he thought he’d felt it, in the nighttime breeze; they wanted to know why he was still on this side and they on the other, or maybe not quite able to cross over, all because of his cowardice, why let him live and still not help them? Why could he do nothing?_

Faster, faster. Enough adrenaline and his thoughts couldn’t race alongside him anymore, he’d outrun then and feel the peace that only came with the possibility of impending danger, when all his senses and every mental working geared into the present and out of his thoughts of his future, his past. All that existed was the clouds of dust on the empty highway, the roaring engine, the shouts of spectators and the open night sky.

_Couldn’t he have closed their eyes and covered them, known the correct words- why didn’t he know the things that had to be said? Why should a useless child like him remain?_

Come on, come on; couldn’t this thing go any fucking faster?

_Wicked child. Born a bad omen, a bad luck charm. His parents had assured him many times, they didn’t believe such things of him, not at all. But now they were- they were- they had been wrong._

The machine shook and rattled under the strain of its speed.

_Large, yellow-eyed, sharp toothed and monstrous. Wielding weapons that shot fire, that could tear apart wood and stone and flesh with ease. A strange accent, barely recognizable, and flames that tore through the valley. Smoke too thick to see or breathe except for when you crawled in the dust, listening for the thud of something heavy dropping to the floor, or armoured footsteps. The fire that rained down from the sky came with high-pitched screeches and whines, left with deafening booms. If he hadn’t been on the periphery when they came, just at the border with the forest, just barely hidden enough-_

If he were to crash now, into a mess of metal and burning rubber and body parts- it would be set right, maybe, maybe, maybe. He was leaving the option to fate, whatever this all led to. He was making up for the way he’d been just out of fate’s reach then, made up for it by edging closer and closer to the flames.

_But he wasn’t thinking of all that, then. He wasn’t thinking of anything at all. Not the broken glass in his leg or that he hadn’t eaten or drank since two sunrises ago. When they found him, he had been empty of thought and feeling, a body with no inhabitant, the perfect opposite of a ghost._

_He didn’t remember most of what he’d felt, or really what it felt like at all. It didn’t seem like he- his mind, his body- had been there. But sometimes he’d slip back into it, his past mind into his present body, his present mind into his past body._

He only knew it was over from the sounds of excitement coming from the crowd. What if… what if he just kept going, didn’t stop? How far could he get before…

_He saw himself, charred black and twisted and frozen in place, right before his eyes. He was there, yes, he had been meant to be there, away from the safety of the ledge and within the precipice, there with the others. This is wrong. This is all wrong. Why not him?_

It took a few seconds until he could will his hands to unclench the wheel, and until he felt the ground stop moving beneath his feet. Well, of course he’d won. This was the one thing he did well, well enough to warrant him being here and not left behind as some nameless victim of a battle no Terran cared to remember, on a world not worth acknowledging. This- the command and control and sheer speed he was capable of, the way he could make metal move, was what justified _him._

_Justified him, still alive and breathing, still here even now, even after this._

Now, to get out of here before anyone wanted to talk to him or get a closer look. He felt some relief from the pressure in his skull, channeled into the racing of his heart that assured him with its fast-paced rhythm that he was still alive.

* * *

Weekday nights were typically boring and uneventful, but as far as Keith was concerned, that was ideal; so much the better to sit down and study on. With the way his feelings had been acting up recently and falling out of the neat, controlled order he liked to keep them in, he was finding it harder to concentrate on his schoolwork, but it just meant he’d have to spend more time on it to compensate.

Walking through the common room, a pair of students huddled around a computer in a way that informed Keith that they weren’t supposed to be whatever they were watching. He couldn’t help but feel curious, and dared an approach.

One of them noticed. “You wouldn’t like this, Kogane. It’s a street race.”

“A str— Really?” He’d heard about them but, did people actually _do _that? Keith had a hard time believing it happened outside of movies, but that didn’t _sound _like a joke.

The other responded. “It’s something the civvies from town are doing, but some of us snuck out to watch. I’m not good at sneaking around, so my roommate is streaming it for us.”

Keith couldn’t resist. He stepped close enough to see what was going on. “Isn’t that illegal?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I don’t get why…” before he could finish his sentence, Keith felt a shiver down his spine. He was compelled to watch closer, feeling uneasy and not knowing why.

“Looks like there’s the winner,” one murmured with a tone of awe.

The other leaned in closer, looking for something. “Why’re they wearing a mask?”

“Because they’re committing a _crime, _maybe?”

“But they’re leaving without even saying anything! Why go if you don’t want the glory?”

Keith remained silent through the argument. His blood went cold as something rose from the back of his mind and hit him. The way they moved so _familiarly _out of the car, it could’ve been a coincidence or a trick of the light, but Keith had seen that mask before—

He hadn’t seen Lance all night. He hadn’t seen him and neither had any of the others and he wouldn’t respond to any messages. And he’d seen the mask in his bag, he was certain that was what it was now, even if he only vaguely remembered glancing at it in passing. He _had _been acting more recklessly recently…

Walking away, Keith could barely hear the debate going on without him. He only cared about one thing, one person he _needed _to see safe and sound and alive. He needed to be sure. He needed to _know._

* * *

Lance snuck back into the complex the way he’d come out; the basement window that wasn’t too hard to pry loose. He fell to the ground within and brushed off the dust. Pulling away his mask, he threw it onto the top of the boiler and watched it dissolve into molten plastic and noxious fumes, until no trace was left.

He hadn’t left any evidence. That was good. He’d have the thrill of victory without anybody else needing to know. It was his— his alone.

What he hadn’t expected was to see Keith standing behind him, arms crossed and face darkened with anger.

“I know what you did, Lance.”

Maybe he could try to act nonchalant until Keith got frustrated with him and gave up, stopped pushing for whatever it was he wanted him to admit to. It was worth a shot, anyways.

“That makes you the only one. Nobody else saw anything but the mask, so it’s fine.”

“_Fine?” _Holy _fuck, _Keith could sound scary when he wanted to; when he let himself sound how he felt out loud. “You think sneaking off and competing in a _street race _is fine as long as nobody knows it was you? You think nobody would’ve found out if they pulled you out of some flaming wreck? Why’d you do that, Lance? You knew- you _knew _how dangerous it was!” He sounded like he was about to hyperventilate, or lunge forward and shake him violently, or something else uncharacteristically… _emotional._

“Hey, I didn’t just compete, I _won.” _Lance folded his own arms and tried his best to look aloof, disinterested in whatever Keith was saying. Why’d he care so much, anyways? It’s not like Lance put _him _into the passenger seat or anything. It wasn’t any of his business. “And it’s not like anyone would blame you or get you in trouble if something happened. It wasn’t on GA grounds.”

Keith’s eyes became frighteningly, uncomfortably intense for a moment, his mouth half-caught in a snarl, before it suddenly faded into something else. Something vulnerable and scared.

“Please. Please, Lance, never do that again.” He still sounded angry, but also a little choked up, his words like pieces of glass on the floor. Sharp and dangerous only because something had broken. “You got whatever you wanted from that, right? You won and now it’s over. Don’t do anything this reckless and stupid and—“

“I won’t.” Lance spoke cooly and bluntly, cutting Keith off in the middle of his rant. “It was just this once. Besides, now you know. And I _know_you won’t let me do anything that could make you look bad.”

There was that flash of pain and anger in his eyes again. “You think… _what?”_

Lance shrugged. “You were worried I’d get my reputation all over yours, right?”

“I was worried about _you!”_ Lance didn’t think he’d ever seen Keith this upset about anything before, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to believe him; in any case, he wasn’t going to_ let _himself do that. But… the way Keith trembled as he spoke, the shaking of his clenched fists and the sharp note of desperation behind his anger were convincing. “I was- I was _scared, _Lance! You could’ve _died_, and you think I care about- about my _reputation?”_

He knew he was being cruelly obstinate, deflecting Keith’s words like this, but the idea that they were true- and he knew, inside he _knew _they were- was too painful and terrifying. That he’d hurt him that badly, someone who’d done nothing but try to help him. It was exactly the type of thing he’d _keep _doing to Keith, if he couldn’t get it into his head that whatever potential he’d seen in him was just not _enough_. How could someone as tactical and methodical as _him _not see that?

“Maybe you _should_ care,” Lance hissed. His eyes met Keith’s and wished he hadn’t looked, the hurt and confusion there worse than any punch to the gut or kick in the ribs. “Maybe you should give up on me already, and stop expecting me to- to not fuck everything up!” Shit, his mouth was running now and he couldn’t stop it all from pouring out, every bad feeling and fear and still-glowing rock of burning, crushing guilt. “Haven’t I done enough to change your mind yet? Haven’t I _said _enough?”

“There’s nothing you could say that’d make me do that,” Keith’s lip trembled. He seemed to have run out of anger from the look in his eyes, now just tired and worn down and _sad. _“Nothing.”

Why’d he have to _say _that? Why’d he have to go _there, _didn’t he know what he was going to get to if he kept digging? The flames were rising and Lance felt something fall irreversibly out of place, out from a careful and precarious balance in his brain that kept every dark thought and feeling tucked safely away. Now it was all on fire, and there was no turning back. He’d been waiting for it all this time, the inevitable moment where he’d be too much or not enough, where he’d fall short or go too far, where he’d destroy whatever Keith had seen in him and burn their relationship up without a trace remaining. It was too painful to face that reality, but right now waiting would hurt _more, _and he couldn’t stand to look at Keith _looking _at him like that knowing it’d all be gone so soon and it’d be like it had never even happened—

“You believe that, Keith? Really?” He knew he was snarling his words, and poised like he was a wild animal about to attack, vicious and full of desperate rage. But he couldn’t stop, kept chipping away the pieces of his crumbling veneer of what-he-should-have-been. “Well, I can change your mind. You wanted to know about what _happened, _right? You want to know what made me this— this fucking messed-up? I’ll tell you.”

Keith’s eyes softened a bit, and posture shifted in some sort of deference to Lance’s tirade. He wasn’t going to fight him, wasn’t even going to move out of his line of fire. Just stood there and took it, even when it was obvious that it was hurting him to see and to hear. And he… his _refusal _to take the warning signs and just _go, _it just made Lance want to push harder and get this over with faster, because those sad blue eyes full of sympathy and concern weren’t his to keep, and never would be. Keith would _not _last for him, and it was only going to hurt more if he waited with all of the horrors beneath his skin; the ones behind the illusion that Keith had bought, that made him believe that Lance was… that he was... It was better for them both if he bared his teeth now.

All this poison within him spilling out, these violent memories. He told him everything, everything, _everything—_

And he didn’t even look away. Not for a second. Lance was half-blind with anger, with misery, with fear and anguish and grief for what he was about to lose. His voice became hoarse from how much he’d shouted, but however long it had really been he had no _clue, _he was far too disconnected from reality to tell. And Keith stood still, watched him. His still held no sign of what was _supposed_ to happen, what Lance knew was going to come. So _when?_

_Everything. _Didn’t Keith have enough?

Why wasn’t it happening?

“There it is, Keith. That’s— that’s the me you wanted to know about so fucking _desperately_,” he could barely take his own voice’s volume, his throat burning and ears ringing. The pound of his heartbeat like he’d been running for his life. “Now you know all of it. Are you happy?”

It made him sick. If he’d eaten anything before he definitely would’ve thrown it up, in this spiralling nausea of terror from what he’d done. He’d given up, gave up every last secret and buried corpse of the past and every jagged, broken piece of a self he didn’t want to accept was still within him, was still alive.

“You wanna stick with me after all _that_? After knowing all that about me?” Lance felt the venom dripping out of his words and shivered, a fault line entering his voice and giving away his fear. “Don’t lie, Keith. Don’t fucking lie.”

He staggered like he was about to fall for a moment, felt the heaviness of his breaths, as if he’d been in a colossal fight. Any second now, the killing blow. He’d lost. Lost everything.

“Lance.”

He didn’t want to look at him and see the damage of the fallout, but he had to. The fire burning over the mountains, in his memory, in front of him now, merging together. Just one piece more in the rubble, one more thing he’d have to seal away in the back of his heart.

“Lance, I—“ Keith’s words were strained and quiet and sounded broken. He’d broken him, and it hurt, because he’d _known _this would break him and he still _told _him, stupid and selfish and all-destructive in his downwards spiral _again. _“I just…”

_Just say it, already. Say it and go. Leave me. _Lance held his breath, awaiting it.

Waiting for—

Warmth.

Why?

Warm arms wrapped around him, holding him down, or maybe up— keeping him from sinking into the core of the planet and dissolving into the magma. Keith’s body shook just a little, like he was reeling from the wounds that Lance had dealt him, but he still held him in spite of the damage he’d taken and the pain he was still moving through.

He held him like he meant to— no, that wasn’t- wasn’t an option. No.

“I’m so sorry. I know that probably doesn’t mean anything, but…” The cracks in his voice were like audible lacerations from the attack. He could hear the tears forming and falling in the stilted pattern of his words. “But I guess I hoped there’d be something I could say to make everything hurt less for you. I thought I could take some of your pain and make everything better somehow, if you told me about it, but..." He paused, and Lance felt him take a deep breath, the movement of his chest resounding against his own. "All I can do is tell you that you were wrong.”

What? Lance had almost forgotten, almost, what had begun this whole attack. What Keith had told him.

Keith continued, his fragile voice still clear and bright in Lance’s ears, warmth in spite of all the cold he’d expected, awaited.

“I’m not going to leave you. Not now or ever. I’m staying with you, Lance.”

He held onto him fast, without any trace of hesitance, in his body or his voice. Keith… held _on_.

What? What the _fuck?_

He wasn’t lying, Lance could feel that he really _meant _it and that was a whole new form of fear; that now they were something, they were some_where_ that he’d never accounted for. There wasn’t any contingency plan for _not _being abandoned. He was floating free, lost in space, and Keith was the only stable thing- the only source of gravity—

He held onto it tight, tighter, rest his head on a familiar shoulder and collapsed to the ground, pulling it down with him. Keith didn’t protest, let himself fall and kept holding him close. Lance felt like a burned-out shell, some ruins left after everything else was razed down, still _here _but so worn down and useless— empty of everything but ghosts.

So he gave in and wept into the only constant he really _had, _and he _had _him, he really did—cried the way he would’ve _then _if he hadn’t been so numb from shock, cried like a scared child. Keith’s grip on him only tightened in response and pulled him into the only safe place there was in the universe, then and there, his arms the only thing keeping him from drifting away and disappearing like ashes in the wind.

Keith let him cry into his shoulder, with his hands grasping the fabric of his shirt desperately, the ghost of a lost little boy hiding from the fire burning up everything but _here. _Held him until he ran out of energy to sob, to form another sound or any more tears. Held him fast as the world slowly returned and they were _here and now _again, not _there and then. _Kept holding.

* * *

“You shouldn’t have to be alone right now.” Even here, after they’d walked all this way in the dead silence of after-hours, careful to avoid detection by any authority, Keith still held onto his sleeve like he could feel how much Lance needed it. He just _knew _what he should do, even if he couldn’t know just how he made Lance feel grounded and able to navigate reality, that he was the rope pulling him in from the void and the guiding glare of the pilot light, the beacon.

“I’m not alone. Pidge is there, too, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” His brow furrowed dramatically as it did whenever he was concerned, making him look uncharacteristically serious. “Will you be okay? Will you be able to sleep after all this?”

Lance gave a noncommittal shrug, staring at the floor. He knew he wouldn’t be, but hadn’t he done enough damage to Keith for one night? How could he ask him for anything _more?_

“I don’t want to leave you, is all.” Keith frowned at him mildly, before giving an apologetic glance askew as if his own words just hit him and gave a shock. “I mean, it’s up to you, I don’t want to make you, I just—“

“Okay.” Lance spat out the word before his guilt could catch him, one more victory for his selfishness tonight. But Keith didn’t look burdened at all, he looked— really happy to hear it.

His eyes widened and looked back at him. Lance had to look away again, something about Keith way too… bright, to look at directly at times. He opened the room door quietly, stepped in feeling weird about what he was about to say and wishing he was good enough with words to make it sound _not _weird.

“Pidge. Keith is gonna be in my bunk. Nothing is gonna happen, he’s just _here, _and that’s it, got it?”

Maybe it was his tone of voice, or more likely the fact that he looked and sounded like someone who’d just been bawling his eyes out, but Pidge didn’t even take the opportunity to make the slightest jab or tease. He nodded with a confused and worried expression, looking like he wanted to ask but couldn’t think of a way.

“Got it.”

* * *

He really _had _needed him here to get any rest. Nervous, frightened thoughts kept rising from the smouldering wreck of everything he’d just gone back through, but a gentle hand resting on top of his forced them out as quickly as they came.

“This is twice now.”

Keith made a small, questioning noise, and even though he was behind him, Lance could feel his head tilt slightly.

“Twice that I needed you to sleep next to me because I’m a wreck. You must be getting sick of it, huh?”

“No way.” Even when he whispered this quietly, Lance could hear the firm insistence in his voice like a command. Must be an army kid thing. “Don’t you ever feel bad about it, Lance. I’m serious.”

He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again even more softly, now barely audible.

“I… like this, you know. You’re- you’re my friend and I’m glad you don’t think this is, uh, weird. Because it’s nice. I mean, I think it is.” Keith sounded slightly embarrassed, and Lance figured it had to do with coming from a family that wasn’t very touchy-feely. He probably had never slept beside _his _parents after a bad dream, or had someone to hold onto when he was scared.

“It _is _nice.”

Keith exhaled like he was relieved by the assurance. Lance made a mental note to try and hug him more often.

“I… I can’t make any of this any better for you, but at least I can help you like this,” Keith brushed his fingers over Lance’s arm and it felt like he was clearing away something awful under his skin, some bad thought on the verge of coming out. “That’s all I can do, and I wish it wasn’t, but I can be here. And- I’m gonna be here for you no matter what.”

Lance felt his eyes getting wet again, but this time it didn’t feel nearly as painful. It felt… cleansing, like he was washing something away.

“That’s all I need, Keith. That’s it.” He pressed backwards, wanting just a little more warmth, a little more contact. “Thank you.”

A little squeeze of his hand came in reply, and the heaviness of all the exhaustion finally hit Lance, now that there was a safe place to sleep. A stable and unchanging and constant place, and it pressed what felt like a kiss onto the back of his head. Lance wondered if Keith had known he was still awake, then.

But he was really, really glad he had been.


	9. Home

Waiting in the crowded terminal, the swells of people coming and going haphazardly and overall noise level made Keith uncomfortable. He wished that there was a corner he could duck and hide in, but security issues meant that enclosed areas practically didn’t exist in big public spaces like this. His maglev was due in an hour; then another two until he arrived ‘home’ to the Cape. Pidge and Hunk’s families were coming to pick them up right from here before then; he’d have to deal with the crowd alone for a while.

_Well, suck it up, _he told himself harshly. _You need to get used to being uncomfortable._

The Academy gave up the last two weeks of the year as a winter holiday; more because of all the maintenance work that needed doing than the desire for a break, but nonetheless giving students one of their two yearly reprieves. While the last day of classes had a generally cheerful air from the students and faculty alike eager to begin their break, Keith dreaded it. Now they were already off-campus, and he was starting to feel a flood of anxiety rising in his gut.

Holidays meant going back home, meant spending time with his family and all the monitoring that came with it. He’d never particularly _loved _going to school, but since he’d joined the program here, he’d made some actual friends for the first time in his life. Listening to Hunk and Pidge talking about their plans just made things hurt worse, though he hardly wanted to tell them to stop; it was sort of nice to daydream about another life where he’d look forward to days like today.

“You should see the goose we make for Christmas Eve, man. You’d never guess it was synthetic, it’s got a wishbone and everything!”

“I still don’t _get _the whole Christmas thing, but Chip and I are probably gonna get roped into something festive. My foster mother is big on making cookies, at least.”

“Oh man, I can’t wait to make some cookies- I wanna bring some back for you guys to try this year.” Hunk must have noticed Keith staring at the floor placidly and gotten concerned. “Hey, Keith, is somethin’ wrong? You’ve been really quiet.”

Keith shook his head. “Nah. Just tired.” He really didn’t feel like going into it now, not least because it’d kill the spirit and just drag Hunk and Pidge down to his mood level; he never wanted to make his problems anyone else’s concern. That simply wasn’t right for someone who was supposed to be- to grow up and become a leader.

Pidge waved over to someone Keith couldn’t see- he turned his head and saw what he presumed must be his twin brother. They were definitely similar-looking, but not identical; Chip had redder hair and a slightly different demeanour, more shy and cautious. At least, he always _seemed _sort of nervous when Keith saw him.

“Hey, you were almost late! What kept you?”

Chip frowned and sat down next to his brother. “Just saying goodbye to some people. Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Hunk told him with a warm grin. “It’s nice of you to take the time for that, y’know.”

Was it just his perception, or did Chip just turn a little red in the face? “Thanks.”

“Those girls you hang out with, right? Lisa and Ginger?” Pidge elbowed him in the side, revelling in the chance to mess with him. Stuff like this somehow only made Keith wish he had a sibling even more, someone to banter with; even though he knew it’d be cruel to want anyone else to put up with the things that he did. “You’ve always been more popular with girls than me.”

“Shut up!”

Pidge grinned mischievously. “It’s too easy to get to you, Chip.”

“C’mon, you shouldn’t tease your little brother,” Hunk said with arms folded, looking at Pidge with a frown. “It’s not right.”

“He’s only younger than me by twelve minutes!”

“Doesn’t matter! I wish I had a sibling who was younger than _me. _I definitely wouldn’t pick on ‘em._”_

Keith couldn’t help but notice that Chip seemed sort of flustered by Hunk defending him; he decided not to comment on it. This was probably the sort of thing he hoped people didn’t notice.

“That reminds me—“ Pidge mused, sitting down on his small case of personal belongings. “Are Sven and Lance gonna come see us off?”

“They _said _they would, but it’s getting sorta late. My folks should be here any minute.”

“No, wait- that’s gotta be them. I’d recognize that jacket anywhere.” Pidge pointed out the latecomers amongst the crowd so easily it made Keith sort of curious as to whether he really _needed _glasses, or had such super-sensitive vision he needed help toning it down. Eventually, he could pick them out of the crowd himself; Sven in his black parka and Lance in that brown leather jacket that didn’t fit him at all. They waved as they approached.

“You were waiting for us before going, right?”

“‘Course, Sven.”

“I’m going to choose to believe you’re not being sarcastic.”

Sven almost immediately zoned in on Pidge and Chip as targets for hair ruffling, raising a few chirps of irritation and angry finger-jabs in response. Lance shied away and leaned against a column, apparently content to be on the periphery whilst Sven made his own sort of farewell loud and open and Hunk tried to control him. Keith suddenly felt awkward as he turned to give Lance his goodbye last, didn’t know how to phrase the words in his mouth so they’d come out sounding right.

“I’ll miss you,” he finally decided to start, approaching Lance with a strange feeling of nervousness- almost the same feeling as the first time he’d approached him, before they’d even spoken. “Honestly, I really will. I’d rather be here with you- with you guys.”

Unfolding his arms slowly, Lance only momentarily lifted his eyes from the floor.

“So you’ll miss me too, then?” Sven wasn’t too busy rifling through Hunk’s jacket pockets for some of the travel snacks he’d packed himself to shoot a falsely sweet-and-innocent smile Keith’s way.

Keith rolled his eyes in response. “Well, I’ll miss _some_ of you more than others. But, yeah. You too.”

He was startled by the light pressure on his wrist; a finger caught in his sleeve, like a hook. Lance was looking directly at him now, his eyes focused but his stare gentle. “Keith... I know you don’t wanna go back, and I’m sorry you’ve got to. I really wish you didn’t.”

It made Keith sort of uncomfortable to hear those words of comfort, particularly from _Lance. _How could he complain, get sympathy from someone whose entire family was wiped out in a day? At least his was alive, even if they made him miserable, even if he hated seeing them. His comments about them, his complaints about not wanting to go home that he’d so carelessly made around Lance, must’ve felt like salt rubbed in that old wound to him. How selfish and insensitive could he be?

“It’s okay, Lance, I know it’s not comparable to your-“

“Not _comparable. _But still shitty in its own way.” Lance’s sad, bitter little rind of a smile sort of made Keith feel a little better, a little less alone. “I’ll send you messages. Unless your parents read them, in which case I won’t.”

“No, I’d- I’d like it if you did that. You tell me how you’re doing, too.”

“Probably gonna sleep a lot. Maybe Sven and I will cause some mischief, who knows?” A sly grin peeking out. Keith felt something unpleasant crawling up his spine. He’d felt this before, but why _now? _He didn’t have any right. No right at all.

But he was jealous.

_What a horrible thing to think. How shitty can I be? _Keith looked away, hoping to clear away the source of discomfort. Was he seriously jealous of Sven, who was staying behind because he’d lost his own family in as fucked-up of a way as Lance had, just because he and Lance were gonna spend a lot of time together without him for a while?

Yes- he was, and it was sickening. But it’d just be one more awful thing to repress and file away to the back of his mind, to never ever _ever _bring to light again. He alone could know how terrible he really was.

“Hey. Lance—“ Keith suddenly felt very self-conscious, leaning in towards Lance like this, in _public _no less. “Don’t do anything _too _stupid, okay? Nothing deadly stupid, at least.”

Lance laughed, and even against the background of chatter and footsteps and rolling luggage- it stood out loud, ringing in Keith’s ears and easing all the sadness out of his chest like a window had been flung open in his heart. Light began to pour in as the bad feelings flew outwards.

“Alright, I won’t.” A light tug on his sleeve again, like a secret code. “Just because you asked.”

* * *

When his parents picked him up at his maglev stop, it was humid and unpleasant out. It got pretty hot where the Academy was, but at least it was never this sticky and gross. Still, he’d rather have remained out there in the heat than be inside the car; with air conditioning, but also with those familiar eyes studying him in the rear-view mirror every few seconds.

The drive back was silent. Keith was grateful that the interrogation wouldn’t begin before he’d had time to return mentally as well as physically; to remember the rules and intricacies he’s slowly but surely forgotten in the company of his friends. Particularly, in the company of Lance.

Here there’d be no showing of weakness, no speaking out of turn, and certainly no more emotion than absolutely necessary. Maybe others could navigate which responses were and weren’t appropriate, but not Keith; he could never tell if his trajectory was correct or way off. It was safest to simply shut those off completely, put them into a box in the back of his mind to unpack when he was alone again.

He hadn’t always realized that his situation was unusual, not until he’d heard what it was like for most others. Most children don’t call their father _Sir _and their mother _Ma’am. _Most children don’t get locked outdoors if they cry at night. Most children don’t have to prove their worthiness of love, of attention, of _existing._

But it was alright. This was routine; this was the last sixteen years. Just a few more of going through these same motions, and he’d hopefully be in the position of only having to see these people face-to-face once, maybe twice a year. Or less, if he was lucky.

It was a thought that made him guilty, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted his parents to be proud of him, yes. Always. But from a safe distance.

Pulling up to what looked to be the white perimeter fence now freshly-painted, Keith thought it looked sort of like it was made of bones, human rib cages bleached and arranged neatly around a well-kept lawn. He stifled a chuckle, catching it at the last second. He couldn’t get away with that here.

_Welcome home_, apparently. Keith wondered what ‘home’ was meant to feel like, and whether he’d ever find out. But for now, he was here, regardless of his feelings on _here_. What and where home was didn’t matter.

* * *

He probably, certainly wasn’t supposed to be listening. Anyways, he couldn’t make out much against the backdrop of insects in the woods as the evening began, their cries seeping through the mesh-covered door. They probably didn’t realize sound carried so easily from the kitchen through to the porch, realized even less that their perfectly-raised golden child might intentionally do something like _eavesdropping._

“We can’t lose all of our hard work on him now, just because of something like this. It’s not like there’s any others.”

“What exactly is he doing wrong in your eyes? The reports are all excellent, even I have to admit. Besides the incident with-“

“You know as well as I do that all these war orphans never, _never _turn out well. They’ve got no names to honour, no culture either most times. No motivation to behave well, and it shows. In all these years I can’t think of a single respectable one I’ve met in the ranks.” An irritated sigh and the clinking of glass. “We should’ve found a more selective school to send him to. It seems the one I went to has changed since and will let any nameless foundling into the command track nowadays.”

Keith instinctively made a fist, them unfurled it. All this would do is make him angry. It’s not like he could change the outcome, whatever it might be. So why was he still listening?

“It’s not too late to transfer him. But… if he’s taking leadership of some lesser students, perhaps that’s a good thing.”

“I’m still debating myself on that one. He’s too soft. Might grow to empathize with them too much, fit their mold.”

“I don’t think it’s worth the hassle. Keith is naïve, yes, but he’s not stupid; he knows what his name means, he knows what his face means. And he’s obedient. Whatever we decide, he’ll do. I’m not too concerned.”

“What if he begins to get ideas, though? It could be too late.”

“The way we’ve raised him ought to account for that. Do you think he won’t have some rougher sorts working under him in the future? It’s better that he learns to deal with it now.”

“I suppose you’re right about that. As long as he remembers his place.”

Jesus. His _place. _Who he was above, and who he was below. How could he forget?

“I can speak to some old acquaintances and ask them to keep an eye on him, if you’re that worried about his socialization.”

“For now, I’ll hold off. You’ve convinced me somewhat; he ought to know by now where to set the limits and how to hold himself in regard to these peers of his. I’ll speak with him about it later. We’ll see what he has to say.”

A sudden sinking feeling came and gave Keith a sucker punch to the gut.

_Shit._ Where’d they hear about that? Just who the hell was watching him goof off with his friends and letting his parents know? At least he’d have time to prepare himself, now that he knew what he was going to be examined on.

* * *

The offices in the Academy were spartan and dreary, yes, but at_ least_ most of them had either natural lighting or a reasonable facsimile. The one his father had in this house was all dark wood and brass, with no windows. Keith sat stiffly in his chair as his father leafed absently through some paper copies of his academic records. Those he must’ve special-ordered; usually you only got digital ones, but Father _did _have a thing for tradition and doing things the old-fashioned way.

“I’ve heard some disconcerting news.” Father’s voice was flat, unreadable if not for the experience Keith had in predicting what might set him off. He tilted his head perhaps twenty degrees to the right, a gesture that hopefully looked suitably innocent and confused. A serious look was directed back at him, but it wasn’t angry. Yet.

“You gave an ultimatum to your superiors, over… a delinquent?”

He knew, probably found out nearly immediately with how many of the higher-ups at the Academy his parents were acquainted with. Of _course _he’d find out- Keith couldn’t have thought otherwise for a moment.

But still, even as he felt the cold gaze of disapproval he feared most, he wouldn’t ever regret what he did. Even though he felt his stomach turn with anxiety, desperately searching his mental archives for an appropriate explanation for his actions to neutralize the situation.

“I had good reasons, Sir.”

“Really.”

At last, his calculations completed; an ideal course of action. The correct answer.

“Lance- Uh, my peer McClain- he’s extremely skilled, and- it would be a waste of the Alliance’s training and resources to remove him from the program. I feel- I believe he’ll be very useful, and I’m certain he won’t try anything again.”

There was a buzzing in the back of his skull, a ringing sound of guilt as he talked about Lance like this. It felt so _wrong, _even though he wasn’t here to hear it, but what else could he do?

Nothing. He was powerless here.

“So you made your own judgement call.” His eyebrows furrowed as he stared Keith down, apparently prying for weakness. “Hmm. I suppose that’s a good thing if you’re to rise above the ranks of some discipline officer or petty administrator.”

Wait, what?

“You’re beginning to take seriously your family name, already; you know what you’re destined for and the command you’ll be taking. Good job.”

Keith tried to force his heart back down from his throat. “…Thank you, Sir.”

“However- Is it also true that you’re associating with this McClain outside of classes? And… others of that type?”

“Yes, Sir. Just… they’re all talented individuals, and when we’re seniors and perform team exercises I’d like them working under me.” Did he sound serious, matter-of-fact enough? “I’m planning ahead.”

“Excellent.” Keith tried not to flinch when Father gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “That’s Commander thinking- Kogane thinking. I’m glad to hear it.”

Keith tried for a small, subservient smile. It worked. He couldn’t help but enjoy these brief moments of his father’s praise and approval, all the more precious for their rarity, feeling like a heat ray exacted upon his mind. It was… a pleasant feeling, but not one he could rest upon for even a moment. He had to keep _this_ up for two weeks?

* * *

Keith had been told many times before how much he resembled his mother- his eyes, mouth, skin, whatever. The eyes in particular; he hoped his own weren’t so icy and penetrating, didn’t make others feel that on edge. But- she’d always regarded him that coldly, ever since he was a child, making those comforting and soft mothers of fiction feel quite alien to him. It wasn’t new, wasn’t unfamiliar, but… even now as he finally grew above her height, Keith couldn’t help but feel like he’d been caught by a hungry tiger on a path through the snow as she stared him down.

“You’ve grown.”

Keith nodded, unsure of whether he was meant to say anything.

“Doing plenty of exercise, I presume. And eating properly.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And your father spoke to you just now?”

This whole ordeal felt like an attempt to pry something out of him. Mother sensed something moving, some sort of prey representing weakness of character within her son, and was stalking it down. Keith did his best to void his mind of anything, everything. No risks should be taken.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Why _did _they make him address them like that, long before he was old enough to understand what a rank or title even _was? _Preparing him for something? Like his name. Keith knew that his father resented that _his _father had wanted to return to something traditional for his name. He hated it, but couldn’t bring himself to change it- that’d be disrespectful. Better to impress upon his son an all-American name, the one he felt would shape him into what he desired. Nothing about his life hadn’t been planned fastidiously and methodically, and there was no reason for it to change now.

“I know you understand our concerns, Keith. We only want to ensure you don’t lose sight of what’s important.”

A nod of understanding, and her expression softened, nearly imperceptible except to an eye well-trained by a lifetime of experience.

“We _are _proud, though. Don’t forget that. We see great things on your horizon; if we didn’t, why would we bother?” Was that supposed to be a smile? It only struck Keith with a sense of longing for a different one, the one that made him feel warm rather than give him chills.

But even as they disturbed him, he still cherished her words; he would keep them on that little altar on his brain, where he’d collected over the years those rare words of praise and kindness and prayed for more, always something more.

Mother was right. Why _would _they bother if they didn’t have high hopes? This was the only sort of caring he’d get out of them, so he couldn’t just go and discard it. You can’t exactly unlearn a means of thinking instilling its roots within you from birth, either.

Well- _that _much was true. This was Mother and Father’s own sort of caring, own type of affection for him. Maybe it counted as love, and maybe it didn’t. Keith didn’t know enough about it to make that call.

* * *

Only in the black-dead of night did he feel like he could breathe normally. Checking his phone, the blue glow of a new notification from Lance felt like a holographic lifeline.

[_How are you doing? Im bored s fuck but its okay here. Sven is being a dick but nothing new. Are your parents being assholes?]_

He smiled, relaxed a bit. Just like Lance to be that blunt.

_[It’s OK. Nothing unusual.] _He considered adding a _miss you, _but worried it’d be too much. At least in written words, he had more time to think over what he was saying, to consider the best way to convey just the right amount of information and not have to think it up on the spot.

He hadn’t expected an instant reply at this hour, but then again, Lance was…

[_I hope you didnt get in trouble b/c of when you said that stuff to the discipline officer]_

_[No, it’s okay. I gave some excuses for why I did it that sounded good. It’s fine now]_

_[Good :] ]_

For whatever reason, Lance using a smiley-face made Keith feel sort of… warm, like there was an echo of that memory, of the brightness of his eyes when he really _did _see him smile. And even quieter in the distance, a whisper of his sunlit face the first time he’d seen him, watching the practice jets from the window.

What could he say that wouldn’t give away how strongly he felt? That those feelings might be something far worse than he’d feared, hiding behind a bond of genuine friendship? Something else, additional feelings on top of even _that,_ pushing into the darkest and most frightening territory of all emotions.

Each time Keith began to type out some response, he erased it immediately. He didn’t have anything he wanted to tell Lance, really. What _was_ there to tell? Was he going to recount the horrible things his father said about the Alliance wards? Tell him what he said about his usefulness, his envisioned future treating him and the others like underlings? Whatever he’d invented that had pleased his father so much to hear. Honestly, he _should _tell Lance what he said, maybe offer some honesty for once with what kind of mess he was dragging him into. But he knew he was far too selfish for that- he couldn’t risk losing Lance, even if he had to lie and cheat and say awful things about him.

Still, some part of him desperately wanted to confess, see if Lance could… tolerate it. Keith had promised him that he wouldn’t leave, and he’d meant it; that didn’t mean he’d blame Lance if _he _got sick of dealing with someone who had to make excuses to spend time with him, to be his friend. There was no way that _wouldn’t _hurt him to know. But what choice did Keith have? None, at least for now.

Idly, he wondered if things might be different when he was an adult- when there was no more immediate risk associated with going against his family. Yet somehow he knew that his years of training and conditioning weren’t something he could just shake off; going against his parents’ orders felt as unnatural as breathing underwater, even as he told white lies to them now. And if they hated him, if they rejected him- what other family did he have?

A rectangle of blue light appeared, startling Keith even in its silence as he stirred from his dark thoughts. Lance, again.

[_I knw you probably fell asleep by now]_

_[since you only stay up late for boring shit like studying most f the time and its break now]_

_[but in case you didnt]_

_[goodnight]_

The electronic blue of the notifications spilling onto the creases of his sheets still somehow glowed with warmth to Keith, like how the brightest stars shone that colour. Not red-hot, not even white-hot. A fire so strong and bright it burned blue.

_[Goodnight.]_

Maybe... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he added that last part after all.

[_Miss you.]_

* * *

The days passed by in a familiar routine. It was like a training exercise; he knew what skills would be tested, what obstacles he might encounter, and how to circumvent and navigate the field. Be quiet, listen closely. Stand straight and make eye contact. Don’t show any feelings, or that you feel at all.

He couldn’t wait to get back to the Academy, but at least he had one thing to enjoy about being back here; he could go running on the trail that took you to the field where you could see, standing bright white in the distance, the skeletal remainders of the structure that had first carried humans towards the moon centuries ago. Before anyone had even dreamt of reaching Alpha Centauri, or of colonizing distant worlds, or meeting others from across the universe. It was hard to imagine for Keith; a world where most people still thought that Earth was alone, and there wasn’t any option to leave the planet behind entirely. That fantasy had kept him together and functional on many of his bad days— the one where he’s the pilot for a one-man ship that he could take to the other side of everything, leave his name and face behind and disappear into stardust.

It wasn’t usually too hot in the early morning, so it was comfortable even when he took a fast pace, and he didn’t tire easily as he weaved through the foliage on the barely-visible trail. The trees and weeds here still looked the same as they always had, which was sort of comforting. The old ghost-town of a launch station, kept as a museum ornament alongside the currently-functional spaceport right next to it, never changed either. But _he’d_ grow, he’d graduate, and he’d _go_.

The only difference was, he didn’t really feel like he wanted to go alone anymore. He didn’t _feel _alone like he used to, like there was no hope of finding anyone who might actually, unconditionally care about him. He had… friends, now. Real, actual, honest-to-god friends.

And…

The way he thought about Lance, the way he felt about him. He wanted to go wherever Lance went, stay here if he stayed. Even if all he could do is watch, and he’d always have to remain at a distance, close but unable to really touch. He couldn’t imagine how painful it’d be to stand there and see him grow to love someone else, to go through the motions of his own carefully-orchestrated life while Lance eventually grows tired of him and moves on with whoever it is makes him happy. But hurt was a feeling, too. Being hurt meant he still could _feel_, and that was better than numbness- the selfish pain of wanting what you can never have, but still being allowed to glance at it for a moment, then to fixate forevermore on that memory.

_Pfft. Dramatic, much? _He allowed himself a bitter laugh at the expense of his own thoughts. He sounded like some lovestruck aristocrat from one of Lance’s ancient books. He figured Lance would’ve been amused, too, if these were thoughts he was _ever _allowed to share.

Something was about to take off on the horizon; probably a resource shuttle for the lunar base. The blast was strong enough that, even at this distance, the grass at Keith’s feet rippled like a stone had been cast into water.

Maybe, one day; he’d keep dreaming. That was all that he could do, that he _had_ to do if he was going to survive.

* * *

Sitting on his bunk again- _his bunk!_ He’d missed these overly crisp sheets and the stiff mattress and the way Sven would climb down to pester him whenever he felt like it. This was as close to _home _as Keith could imagine, all things considered.

As he reviewed the assigned readings for the first class back tomorrow, Sven had decided he couldn’t deal with peace and quiet right now. He sat down next to Keith without asking, sticking his elbow out as to obfuscate the pages of the textbook.

“I read this twentieth-century novel that Lance borrowed me, over the break.”

Keith snorted. “You read now?”

“Ouch.” Sven frowned exaggeratedly, leaned onto Keith as an act of retaliation. “I do have some appreciation for Earthly culture, you know.”

“Besides the alcohol? Not sure I buy it.”

Sven poked his chin into Keith’s shoulder intentionally, secretly making Keith pleased that he was succeeding at being the inflammatory party in their conversations for once. Lance would be proud of him, he thought. “I read an ancient classic from your _stupid_ country on your _stupid_ planet, and wanted to share my thoughts- and all you can think of is criticizing my pastimes? You’re too cruel, Keith.”

“Alright, alright. Tell me about the novel.”

“It was called… what was it? _The Catcher In The Rye._ Lance says it’s stupid, and he hates it, but he likes hating it.”

“That _does _sound like Lance.”

“Anyways- it’s one of those stories with some spoiled, whiny brat who thinks he knows how awful life is, even though nothing very bad has ever really happened to him, and all it succeeds in doing is making you feel angry. But also better, in a way.”

“How so?”

“For one thing, I’m not living in some backwards time without interstellar travel. And another- I don’t feel so pathetic in comparison. I’m doing well enough in this school, enough to pass at the least. Who knows? I might make a decent navigator someday.”

What? Sven felt pathetic? Had he _meant _to let that slip out?

Apparently not. He sat upright rigidly, then tried to feign nonchalance as it became clear he didn’t feel like talking anymore. Like a signal beam trying to transmit through a snowstorm, he wasn’t going to let anything more through, had gone dark. When Sven decided to put up a barrier between himself and the rest of the world, it was impenetrable.

Sven stood up and walked up to the window, cracking it open. “I’m going to sit outside for a while.”

Keith nodded, understanding better than ever before in his life why Sven acted like this at times. Showing more than you intended of yourself, the parts you hoped you could keep hidden until the grave, was seriously terrifying. It felt like letting others take an unsupervised walk around the inside of your mind, dig into whatever they wanted about your thoughts and feelings. Keith had his reasons for keeping certain parts of himself restricted from the public eye, and Sven had his own. He was beginning to feel like he wasn’t so alone in his problems, now that he was starting to really know his friends, to really know _other people. _They all had something they wanted to hide and their own demons, but they could still get along. Could still be friends.

None of them had to be alone.

Keith didn’t feel like reading for class anymore. He wanted to find someone, and he had a good idea of where to go to find them.

* * *

There _was _a real library, and a bookshelf by the sofas in the common room. But that wasn’t where Lance’d be, especially not at this hour.

Keith carefully opened the door to the supply closet, not wanting to startle who he knew was probably inside. Sure enough, Lance looked up at him from whatever he was reading with a small jump, before recognizing him and relaxing; his face was illuminated in yellow light by the dim ceiling lamp.

“Hey.”

Lance didn’t _sound _annoyed by this intrusion… but _was_ he? Suddenly Keith wondered if he was overstepping his bounds or making a serious mistake by coming here, the recurrent fear that’d brush against him whenever he got closer to Lance.

Earlier that day, at the terminal when they’d all met up again- Lance had been quieter than usual. Didn’t really look at him directly, either. Maybe something _was _wrong. Maybe Keith had committed some transgression he didn’t even know about, and now Lance was mad at him. Even with those fears, Keith felt a stronger force at work; something even stronger than his insecurities. He didn’t just _want _to be close to Lance while he could be. He _needed _to.

“Can I sit here?” He asked quietly, wondering if he was being too pushy or too… desperate. Lance nodded, made space for him on the window ledge. Funny there’d even be a window here; all you could see out of it was another wall. But at least it made for a good spot to sit.

Before Keith had even had the time to plan out what he wanted to say, where was a safe place to begin and whether he should try asking _at all, _Lance spoke.

“Sorry if I acted weird today. When we saw each other before, in the station, I was… I don’t know. I felt…” He was leaning closer to Keith, dangerously close, enough that he could feel his skin burning with anticipation. As if Lance was the fire he was letting spread too close to him. “I guess I don’t have the right word for it. But it felt kind of strange to have you come back and, uh, look happy to see me. To be able to stand there and say I’m waiting for… for my best friend, and then you’re just _there_ and saying you missed me and everything. I’m not really used to that, so…”

How did he always manage to say so _casually_, these things that hurt so much to hear- didn’t they hurt him to _say_? He wasn’t used to… “I _was _really happy to see you. I missed you a lot.” Keith couldn’t resist the temptation. He leaned a little closer to Lance in turn, but still couldn’t bring himself to touch him. “I mean, I missed all of you, but…”

“I get what you mean.” Lance made the final move. He rested his head against Keith, sliding away his book and curling in closer towards him. Keith really _did _feel like he’d been set ablaze. “At least you’re not going back again until the summer, right?”

“Right.” This was what he’d been looking for, the only thing he really had ever wanted this desperately. Even as his rational mind and the small commander’s voice in his head shouted for him to stop, Keith moved in turn even closer to Lance, pulled him in with his arms so that he was what Lance was resting his back against, rather than the side of the window’s nook.

Lance seemed sort of surprised by the gesture for a moment, before relaxing into it and pushing even more weight onto Keith as if he were a living cushion. Finally, Keith felt whole- felt _right. _No longer alone, floating frozen and lost in space. He allowed himself to relax, his posture to soften and his breathing to become a more gentle rhythm.

He wondered how Lance felt about this sort of thing. To him, it was probably just casual, the way he showed that he trusted Keith, that he was a true friend to him. As long as he couldn’t hear the longing in his heartbeat with his ear so close to his chest, that was alright. Lance was his friend, and that was already more than he could ever have hoped for.

“I know we should go sleep. We’ve got to start getting up at five thirty again tomorrow,” Lance murmured, sounding completely and utterly comfortable. Keith fought the urge to go and cross another territory boundary-line of their friendship by running fingers through his hair. “But you’ve got to make up for lost time.”

“Lost time?”

“Yeah. You’re comfy, and I spent most of my break reading here while sitting on plain concrete. Stay here and I’ll finish one more chapter, then we’ll go.”

Keith smiled. “Sounds good.”

Watching Lance read in silence as he leaned against him so closely, not minding that Keith’s arms were still around him—

Keith decided that he _did _know what home felt like.


	10. Secrets

He sat alone and held it in his palm, fingers tracing the patterns carved into the wood, plying for the memory ingrained in it; Lance had made this for _him._

It somehow made him feel only more guilty, knowing it had been meant only as a token of friendship, and that he was defiling it like this by looking for a message that wasn’t there.

_I know it isn’t much, and, well… I’ve never been too good at making things._

_But I wanted to give this to you, Keith._

He didn’t deserve the warm, gentle feeling settling over him like a summer breeze as he remembered Lance’s words to him. Keith examined the carefully-furrowed grooves and nicks that shaped the little wooden bird, amazed at how well Lance had replicated an animal he’d only seen a couple of times from a distance. It really did look like a woodpecker, right down to the small crest on its head. And he’d made this in only a few hours, too.

Lance had told him that something about the bird reminded him of Keith. _It’s stubborn, like you. _Keith hadn’t been sure if he meant that as a good thing, but Lance had said it with a smile on his face.

Keith put the figurine back into the small metal fireproof case he kept under his bed, the one he kept his most important things in. This was probably the only thing he owned that he could really say he cared about, that he wanted to keep until he died. Even long after he’d messed everything up between him and Lance over his stupid feelings.

* * *

Keith could hear every tiny scuffle of shifting feet and tap of the tablets in the classroom as loud as though bombs were going off. This wasn’t going to be an easy class to keep himself level throughout, but he had to.

All he wanted to do was to focus on the _lesson, _damn it, but—

It was too easy to get caught up on one sentence heard, one bad thought that tangled a net around him that got tighter the more he struggled to escape. Once the awful pattern formed, it would have been easier to pull himself out of a black hole.

And all he could think about now was a compilation of his mistakes; whatever damning evidence he must have let slip to let everyone know that he wasn’t that good, wasn’t good enough after all, what was wrong with him. Some of the mistakes… some of his failures were worse than the others, and remembering all the times he might have accidentally shown them made his nerves skyrocket.

_You’re such a promising student, which is why I can’t understand your choice of company. Why is it that you hold McClain in such high esteem, anyhow?_

He had been receiving his half-term evaluations for his tactical training when the instructor pulled that remark out, not at all harsh but nonetheless uncomfortably curious.

_You’re shaping up to be just as good as your father, and his father, and every other Kogane as far back as the GA goes._

He’d hated hearing that from his teachers, even though he knew it should be exactly what he wanted, even though he’d half-tricked himself into believing that it _was _what he wanted most days.

_He doesn’t talk much outside of class, but I think it makes him seem kinda mysterious. I wonder what his secrets are?_

He wasn’t supposed to overhear that, but he was always too good at picking voices out of a crowd when there was something unpleasant to hear. They were asking questions about him, and that meant eventually they’d figure out—

_How come you’re never with any girls, Kogane? I know they like _you.

Please, please don’t ask so many questions; he wanted to shout it aloud, but controlled himself.

Why’d they need to _know _about him? He’d tried to make himself into someone that nobody would wonder about, an ideal and well-polished image that didn’t give any suggestion of more depth below its glossy bright surface. He’d answer questions in class formally, speak respectfully to superiors, be polite but aloof with peers. His parents hadn’t asked him too many questions yet, and he worked hard to ensure he gave them nothing _to _question. Even with his friends, his true friends; he’d thought that he could dismiss any worries they had about him or what he was keeping hidden with enough of the right words and gestures.

But some people rarely behaved like Keith’s models predicted. In these instances, they were far _more _curious about him, and his distance and evasiveness only made things worse rather than better. He desperately wished there was a tactics guide- a study manual for creating the face that he wanted to show the world, that could sit atop of his real self like camouflage armour.

He noticed that Lance was looking at him from his desk across the room, with something suggesting concern etched into his usually apathetic slight frown. When Lance noticed that Keith had noticed _him, _he turned his attention back to his work. Keith wondered just how much he’d given away just then, just how much intelligence Lance gathered about him to warrant that expression he’d had. What exactly had been written on his face at that moment, and how was it that Lance had caught him off guard like that, looking below his surface while he remained unaware?

Nobody could read Keith like Lance could, read him like an open book. That scared him more than anything else.

_You’re above that sort of… those sorts of feelings, Keith._

His father had told him that, maybe a few years ago, when he’d commented about some classmates who had begun dating. But friends were already a luxury he wasn’t supposed to afford himself. More than that was unthinkable.

_Don’t disappoint me._

After all, he was supposed to achieve great things. No distractions and no traces of anything short of perfection would be tolerated. Still, his situation with his parents could be far worse yet, if they knew that he was… that he was…

He looked away from Lance, felt like something sharp had landed in his chest. This was everything, everything he wasn’t supposed to feel. But it wasn’t going to stop because of any command. He’d just have to live with this wound, with this blade stuck into him, forever.

Disappointment.

* * *

Lance was worried about him, but he didn’t know how to say it. He didn’t want Keith to be able to just brush him off with another transparently fake smile- _who did he think he was kidding, anyways? _And he didn’t want to make him feel worse, either. He knew how Keith feared looking weak or vulnerable, maybe even more than himself in some ways. And he knew how shitty it felt when someone saw through what you’d hoped was a good emotional disguise.

But there was definitely _something _wrong. Something was eating away at Keith today, and he wasn’t just going to let it go; whatever it was,_who_ever it was that was bothering him, Lance would raise hell if he had to.

After all, that’s what _he’d _do. What he _did _for Lance, again and again.

But it wasn’t right, how much he expected of himself and how reluctant he was to accept anything in return. Keith deserved— He deserved those things he’d always given, but never taken. And he deserved them from somebody better than Lance, but... Lance decided that he’d have to do, for now.

* * *

“Can we talk?”

It hadn’t been his original plan to corner Keith like this, to separate him from the pack like a wolf hunting down a lamb, but it had been impossible to get through to him any other way. Whatever was up with Keith, he was determined to make sure Lance didn’t get to ask about it. But Lance was more determined still.

“What about?” He could hear something sharp in Keith’s voice, saw him drum his fingers over his other arm in a repetitive manner that suggested anxiety or fear. He wouldn’t meet Lance’s eyes.

“About you.” Before Keith could interject, Lance stepped forward and quickly cut him off before he’d started. “And don’t try to tell me everything’s fine, because I’m not _stupid, _Keith. I don’t know if you think I’m too dumb to notice, but _something _is wrong, and… and I want to help you.”

Keith lowered his eyes to his shoes, slumped his shoulders slightly from his rigid and stiff posture. Lance felt guilty, seeing how it hurt him to find out his disguise hadn’t worked after all- but this was better for Keith. There was no reason to pretend this didn’t matter, when in the end whatever was hurting him would still be there. Like a surgery- he’d have to hurt him to heal him.

“Look, I know you don’t like to talking about your feelings or problems with me, and- and I’m not gonna make you tell me any secrets or personal shit if you don’t want to. But I—“

“I don’t need any help.” Keith sounded colder, more spiny and distant than Lance was used to hearing. It was a little painful, pushing him away even a little was painful, like Lance was being pulled in two directions himself. Was this how Keith had felt whenever Lance would do the same to him?

“Yes, you do.” Lance made a shaking fist with each hand, squeezing them like he was choking out the shadowy thing in the room that was standing between them. “You’ve done the same for me over and over, Keith- please, let me help _you _for once.” Lance extended an arm, placed a hand on the ones folded over Keith’s chest like a bulletproof shield, hoped his touch could help break the barrier down. Maybe it’d be unwelcome, but he had to try. “I… I’m really worried about you, okay? And I’m not gonna stop worrying just because you give me some stupid excuse or avoid the subject. You don’t have to say whatever it is. But I’m not gonna let you keep pretending it isn’t fucking you up, because I _know _you.”

Keith’s mouth curved sharply, eyebrows turned and forehead wrinkled with a brief flash of hostility, followed by fear and resignation and sadness like a chain reaction of explosives. Lance wasn’t always good at reading people, but those kinds of feelings he _knew, _and- he knew Keith, knew the subtle shifts in his face and posture and tone of voice better than he knew his own. He must’ve cracked something open, because he felt a change in Keith’s arm with his hand on it- muscles unstiffening, the steely defiance in his firmly-held defences breaking down into the slightest shakes, imperceptible to the eye and only made visible to Lance by this site of contact. He opened his mouth for a moment, just a moment, uncertain of what he was willing to tell Lance.

“You…”

As his shoulders fell, Keith swallowed down whatever he’d been about to say and blinked furiously. He pulled away from Lance, as if he’d realized that he was giving away more information than he wanted.

“You _can’t _help, Lance.” His voice was strained now, filtered and carefully restrained. “There’s nothing to help with, it- it’s not that kind of problem. Please, don’t worry about me. I’ll get it under control, I always do.”

Lance pulled his arms back over his chest and tried not to look wounded or dejected. “Okay, I can’t make you talk. But if you need me, I mean-“ He scratched behind his head, feeling a little embarrassed and naked here trying to be the one who was talking openly about feelings, the one who was letting himself be vulnerable so that he could reach out to _Keith_. “I don’t know how to talk about this kind of stuff, I’m not good at it like you are. But I can listen, or… whatever you need.”

Keith finally met his eyes for a moment, and Lance thought he saw some overwhelming pain in them, something that made even him shiver despite not knowing what it was.

“You’ve got your own problems, Lance, I _know _that. Why do you want to deal with mine so much?”

“Because you did the same for me,” Why did Lance feel his stomach twist in guilt when Keith looked away from him again? It felt like, on some level, he was the source of the problem. Maybe he’d burdened Keith too much with his sadness and rage and fucking _tragedy_, and now it was wearing away at even someone as strong as him. “You’re my best friend, Keith. And—”

Lance bit his lip, unable to say what was rising through his throat like the songs that birds sing by instinct alone- something he _needed _to hold back anyways.

“—And I _care_ about you, damn it!” Safe choice of words, said with enough anger and frustrated desperation to disguise whatever else- whatever other emotions he didn't want to acknowledge- might’ve slipped in.

“I don’t want you to have to— to be this perfect fucking _soldier_ all the time! You keep taking all my problems and bullshit onto _your _shoulders, and just— just deal with it alone like you’re not hurting yourself!" Was his lip trembling? How fucking pathetic did he look right now? Whatever- this was more important than his dignity.

"You're not a fucking robot, Keith— you don't have to take it quietly and pretend you're okay. I won't _let _you do that.”

He’d shaken him, a little. Maybe it had been too much, but he couldn’t take back what he’d said, no matter how much he regretted the way his raised voice had made Keith flinch and retreat back into his shell.

“I need to go to class,” He murmured in a monotone that conscientiously had any emotion picked out of it. “I’ll see you later.” He brushed by Lance on his way out, the quick-footed soldier’s gait coordinated perfectly. How could he recompose himself that well, that quickly? It’d be apparent to nobody else what he was going through, as he walked back through the halls with that commanding and unhesitant stride, and a well-painted expression of pleasant neutrality on his face. But Lance wasn’t going to let this go— _no fucking way _. Whatever it took, however many bridges had to be burned, he was gonna help Keith, somehow.

“You won’t get rid of me that easy, Kogane,” Lance muttered to himself under his breath, watching Keith leave with his determination iron-cast. “Not a chance.”

* * *

How had Lance gotten into his room without the key? No point questioning that, really. When Lance was determined to do something, nothing would stop him. Keith stood up from his desk and the piles of equations that he was numbing his mind with, glared at the intruder and crossed his arms. Turned his back towards him again and wished he’d take the hint.

“Leave me alone, Lance,” Keith mumbled, too tired to sound as angry as he wanted. He couldn’t let Lance be near him right now, it was too risky. No matter how badly he wanted to reach out and touch him and lean on his shoulder and accept his comfort, it just wasn’t _his _to have, not when he was having these horrible thoughts and feelings that might contaminate Lance. That he might figure out from being so close to him. “I already told you—“

“I remember what you said!” Even though he sounded irritated, Keith could feel the undercurrent of softness in his tone. “And I don’t believe you, Keith. Why are you so scared of letting your guard down with me?” He didn’t need to say more than that; even Keith, for all he struggled to comprehend about those hidden meanings in others' words, understood what Lance meant.

_Why can’t you be vulnerable with me like I was with you? I trusted you with _my _secrets._

"Damn it, Lance—" Keith remained turned away, looking at his shadow cast on the wall; so big that he felt tiny in comparison. "Why can’t you just listen to me and_ go?_”

Lance grinned cheerlessly for a moment. “I’m not good at taking orders, Kogane. You should know that about me by now.”

He almost let himself laugh; at his own weakness, at what an awful situation he was putting Lance into, at how even now Lance could strike a beam of lightning into the dark storm of his clouded thoughts. Lance alone could burn away all of his carefully arranged disguises, if he wasn’t careful— All the smoke and mirrors he relied on to pretend that his emotions had disappeared, the illusions that he used to pass himself off as something far better than he was. The defences that Lance could just move through as easily as if they were only holograms; nothing solid, nothing could stand in the way when Lance was the one putting Keith’s mental fortress under siege. A word from _him, _and every wall crumbled.

Just then, Keith made a mistake.

He let himself turn towards Lance and stay in that one good thought, in Lance’s light, in the gentle hurt and unashamed concern in his eyes as he stood before him- let it go too far and the last threads holding him together unravel.

Before he could just about hold it back, but there were too many cracks in the dam to control the tidal wave of fear and regret and guilt and something else he didn’t dare call by name. Before he could stop himself- no, there _was _no way to stop himself at this point. Nothing would’ve been strong enough to stop this. He’d crossed that event horizon, and everything was going to fall apart.

He could feel his vision blurring as the tears began to fall, that couldn’t be blinked away fast enough to hide.

He’d failed.

“I’m sorry,” Keith rasped, desperate to pull himself together, but crumbling more the harder he tried to keep his voice and shoulders from shaking. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be making you see this, I’m sorry—“

“Hey, Keith…” Lance’s eyes were wide and nervous, looking at him in an unfamiliar way. _This is it. He’s been disillusioned with me now. _Whatever appeal he had to Lance must’ve been rooted in his image of stability and security— Keith couldn’t imagine any other way. Lance had appreciated his skill as a flight partner and liked him for that, his support when he was hurting and liked him for _that, _his ability to take care of _his _problems. What was left for Lance to like about him when he’d been levelled to the ground like this? He was disappointing him, wasn’t he?

But Lance didn’t shy away. He looked startled, a little confused, but not uncomfortable or… or disappointed. His hand slowly, carefully extended to Keith’s cheek like he was afraid to scare him.

“…Don’t apologize.” As he felt the cool touch of fingertips against his face, Keith fought the urge to lean closer, to take more than he was being offered. But as his gesture was accepted without a flinch, Lance was the one who stepped in and pulled Keith close. “Please— It’s okay, you’re okay, don’t be sorry.”

He couldn’t stop shaking, even as Lance’s grip tightened. Keith was furious with himself; now he was just transferring these pathetic emotions onto Lance, dragging him down into the spiral of disaster. He knew, he _knew _he shouldn’t be allowed to do this, to accept his help and his warmth and his light. But even as he summoned the last of his strength not to reciprocate the placement of arms around him, Lance didn’t let go. Keith felt his one hand rub up and down his back soothingly, in a slow and gentle pattern that somehow felt so comforting and right that it must’ve been some instinct of his. It helped Keith choke out a few quiet sobs, lessened his resistance as he finally allowed himself to cling to Lance, arms around his waist hanging on like a drowning man to flotsam.

This had all happened so fast. He’d been okay, just earlier today, hadn’t he? Or had he just been falling so imperceptibly slowly towards this moment that he never noticed until it was too late?

He rested his head on Lance’s shoulder, giving into his awful, pathetic, weak—

“It’s okay. You can cry, it’s alright.” Could Lance _feel _his thoughts? Or did he just know him that well by now? “Go ahead, I’ve got you.”

“It’s not right,” Keith mumbled into Lance’s shoulder. “I can’t.” But he didn’t let go.

Lance tightened his arms around him almost forcefully, like he wanted to squeeze the hesitance out of him manually. “Yeah, you can.”

Keith didn’t protest any more- he didn’t have the energy left. He was so tired, and he didn’t even notice until now. Maybe he’d been waiting for a safe place to take a breath for a while, without being aware of it.

Even though he couldn’t, he _wouldn’t _tell Lance what had shaken him so badly and what events precipitated the attack, he still stayed by his side. Didn’t pry for more details than Keith wanted to give. It was nice, to be allowed to have limits and to not be forced into anything. But all the while, Keith couldn’t stop thinking about how if Lance _knew, _if he did find out what had been weighing so heavily on Keith— he’d never let him rest his head on his shoulder like this. He’d never let Keith so close again, and he’d be right not to.

But for now, just this once—

He’d let himself stay here, even though he knew he shouldn’t be. He’d let himself have this moment to hold onto for the rest of his life after Lance was gone, after he found out. At least he could remember this, then. Remember it forever.

* * *

Lance sat up and watched as Keith lay silently curled onto his side, breathing slowly and steadily, finally finding some peace in his sleep. He wondered, briefly, where Sven was- he was Keith’s roommate, wasn’t he? But the latch on the window having been left loose quickly explained that question away.

So, it was just the two of them here.

It felt a little wrong of him to be here, kind of selfish. It _was _true that he’d hoped Keith could calm down enough to sleep if someone was there with him, that he wanted to help Keith the way he’d done before for him. But now that he was alone in his consciousness in the dark room, Lance realized that he’d wanted just as badly to be next to Keith himself as to do him a favour.

Something in his chest was aching again. It was a terrible, heavy feeling that settled on his ribs, made it hard to breathe or to focus his thoughts where he wanted to.

It was rare to see Keith relaxed, rarer still to see him show any vulnerability. Even though he hadn’t wanted to talk about whatever was bothering him, it seemed like he _did _feel a little better for Lance’s efforts. Still, he wished he could’ve done better, been better. When Keith had been there for _him, _he’d done everything right, made everything so much easier and less painful. Lance could never offer him the same, and that hurt fiercely as a fresh burn wound. There had never been anyone else that Lance wanted to be close to so badly, any other person he’d felt so comfortable and complete with. But for all that he’d opened up to Keith, there were still some things he knew that Keith held back. That wouldn’t have bothered him, wouldn’t have stung so much with anyone else; but he wanted more of Keith than he could probably ever have, more than he really knew how to even understand the meaning of.

He noticed a strand of Keith’s hair had fallen pretty close to his mouth and brushed it away, lingering a moment too long on the feel of his face for his own comfort. Mentally, Lance went through the checklist of things bothering him, searching for whatever it was that he could eliminate so that this’d be easier- whatever _this _was.

He trusted Keith, more than anyone else. He liked spending time with him, being around him. He… liked how he looked, too. _That’s not a big deal _— _so do half the students in our year. There’s nothing strange about _that.

Was there?

But maybe he spent too much time thinking about the colour of his eyes, or the warmth of his fingers when their hands accidentally brushed together, or the way that the sound of his voice somehow made everything around him look a little brighter—

That was _enough. _Lance decided he couldn’t afford to think about this anymore, not now. It’d be a problem for later, hopefully never if he could help it. This was… probably because he didn’t have a lot of experience with other people, with having friends. That was it. There wasn’t anything to question in his feelings, he just needed to get used to this.

Nothing strange, nothing. Even though he felt a wordless question rise into his mind, counting Keith’s breaths until he fell asleep by his side.


	11. Advice

He’d been dreading this class for a while; yeah, everyone had to take it, and he knew the theory in and out, but… Keith could never imagine feeling comfortable using a weapon like this. At least the ear protection was strong enough to put things on mute for a while, so he didn’t have to deal with the noise. But his aim was terrible, and he _really _hoped that the instructor wouldn’t make a public announcement to everyone to illustrate the wunderkind Kogane’s only academic weak point.

Keith frowned at the target; how much longer were they gonna have to do this?

He knew a lot of students looked forward to the day they’d receive these lessons from the moment they signed up at the Academy. Sven wasn’t in their set, but he was probably having the time of his life- he already had some experience with these things, right? Keith really didn’t want to find out how he _got _that experience.

He knew Hunk probably hated this more than himself, even though he’s always been good with things requiring precision and mental calculations of trajectory, just because of what it represented. Keith often wondered why he wasn’t off in a civilian school- he could probably move straight to college classes with his engineering prowess there. But he’d chosen to come to the Academy... why?

Pidge _was _in their set. It was almost darkly comedic to see someone so small hold up a gun that stood taller than themselves, how quickly he picked up on the skills necessary to develop a decent aim despite practically getting thrown back from the recoil for being so small. Pidge had told him he preferred throwing knives; no middleman to break down or backfire, just your good throwing arm and something sharp. He’d said it with a mixture of disturbing seriousness and childlike excitement that made Keith feel a little nauseous. He could never say it to his face, but he desperately wished that Pidge wasn’t here in this school, was off being a normal kid somewhere else instead.

And Lance—

The way he moved with a firearm, so fluidly, as if it were natural to him…

Keith couldn’t stop staring. The intense focus in Lance’s eyes and the way he steadied himself into the perfect position, barely seeming to even notice the recoil with his catlike statuesque posture, and with perfect aim. He was poetry in motion, beautiful even when doing something violent like this. Lance looked up from his round at Keith with a grin, lifting his glasses momentarily and wiping his forehead. Keith couldn’t hear much through the ear covers, but he could read Lance’s lips pretty well.

“Pretty good for a first time, huh?”

Keith couldn’t do anything to respond besides nod after a brief delay.

The next time it was his turn, Lance got behind him and helped with his positioning, moved him with a gentle push and touches, showed him how to get steady and from where to look to aim. Keith tried to focus, but having Lance this close to him made it… really, really difficult.

At least with Lance’s help he hit the target enough times to call it a success. Some of the other students seemed to have picked up on Lance’s natural talent, and observed him closely to try and see what he was doing. It made Keith happy to see others appreciating Lance, even if it was only over something like this. He deserved more recognition for his skills, from his peers as well as superiors, and Keith made a note to talk up Lance’s amazing marksmanship to the attending instructor on their way out. Still, his seemingly engrained ability to pick up and become part and parcel with a given weapon was more than a little frightening, and it hurt to think about. Keith knew what sort of experiences had honed Lance’s reflexes, his ability to become fixated in the battle, to become trapped in a world of fight-or-flight where he could never, never pick flight.

Hunk had once told him his observation in field exercises, how you could always pick out how someone had ended up here at the Academy. Earth’s students, and intended applicants, followed a scholastic method to their exercises- started from textbook protocols and worked their way into application. But the wards, they’d just go straight into the fabric of the field and move like animals, immediately conjuring up self-learned tactics and working seemingly by instinct alone. It made them talented, yes, but outside of the fight- real or feigned- something had to have been given in exchange.

It just made everything feel worse, knowing that the grace and precision and reckless beauty of Lance weaving and darting across fields, working with weapons as though they were extensions of himself, carried such a bitter origin- and yet he kept admiring it, looking at him like this. Keith made himself feel sick, made himself wonder just how fucked up he really _was _to feel about Lance the way that he did.

Now as Keith intently watched Lance make a little ponytail to keep his hair out of his eyes as he prepared for another, more challenging target, the sickening shadow of guilt was creeping back over him.

But the moment he caught another glance— _he looks really cute with his hair tied back like that. _No matter what rigors of mental discipline and meditative attempts to silence them, the thoughts and feelings accompanying them would resound loud and clear through Keith’s mind again. As long as he was near Lance, there was no escaping it.

So, he _shouldn’t _be near him. But he lacked the self-discipline to step away, having known the comfort of being at his side. Everything else- the world before Lance, without Lance- felt like the cold and empty vacuum of space. It would’ve been better if he didn’t know what he was missing, but since he _did_…

“You’re amazing.” Keith found himself speaking aloud entirely on accident.

Lance smiled. “Hey, I had to have _some _talent.” So he’d thought Keith meant just about the shooting, thank goodness.

How could something that made him so happy hurt so much? Keith resolved the question with the only answer that made sense; that he wasn’t meant to be happy. This wasn’t natural for him, wasn’t right, but… he took a deep breath, steadied himself and recalibrated his expression to cover up any trace of anguish.

He wished desperately that he could be someone else, someone who got to have Lance forever.

Got to be happy, and make him happy. _What a childish daydream._

* * *

Lance was beginning to understand what was going on now, and he really, _really _wished he wasn’t.

Instead of doing his part for their shared burden of problem sets, Lance was staring off into space, trying to chase away a never-ending stream of irritating memories flashing in his head. Images, words, feelings; all of them had to do with Keith. His best friend Keith, who was probably-maybe-_ hopefully _oblivious to how weird he must have been acting around him recently.

How’d he let this happen? He’d been so careful. But Keith had broken down all of his well-secured defences and got past all his safeguards. He didn’t know how to deal with this, now that he had lost control of his feelings. And Keith didn’t even _know _what he was doing, hadn’t been planning anything malicious or cruel, just walked straight through every barrier with that warm smile and those bright and kind eyes.

“Hey, man- you look stressed.” Hunk nudged him, offered one of his gingersnaps- from a package from home. Must be nice. “If you’re busy or need to rest, I can work on my own today. It’s not due until Thursday night, anyways.”

“No way, that’s not fair. This is way too much work for one person, and I’m gonna pull my own weight.” Lance ultimately accepted the cookie. “Thanks.”

Hunk looked kind of worried, still. “Is there something goin’ on? I mean, you look like you’re… I dunno, distracted by something. Is it bad?”

_Was _it bad?

“Not really,” Lance muttered. “It’s not good or bad. It just is.”

“Huh.” It seemed like Hunk was about to ask something, then thought better of it. He was still pretty cautious when prodding Lance, more apt to keep a safe distance and obey the danger signs. Then again, he always managed to win Lance over in the end; with his unintrusive questions, his awareness of his comfort levels with discussing things. Lance really felt like it was alright to share things with Hunk just _because _of the way he never hounded him for details, and how he dropped the subject when he asked. Hunk was trustworthy.

“The thing is,” He began, frowning as he doodled aimlessly on the touchpad. “I think I might…”

He took a breath, suddenly uncertain again. Hunk didn’t interrupt, listened patiently until Lance figured out how he wanted to say what he needed to.

“I might have, uh, a… feeling, for someone. Y’know, not like just a _friend _feeling.”

“So like a crush?”

Lance hadn’t really considered that word. but it _did _sound suitably violent. “I guess so. But… bigger.” He pulled his knees up, suddenly eager to compact himself in size. “I mean, it’s hard to figure out what exactly it _is. _I just know that it’s pissing me off. And— and I don't know what to _do _about it!"

Just as he was about to explode into an angry tirade over his frustratingly incomprehensible feelings, or maybe break something expensive for good measure, a gentle hand on his back distracted him; Hunk had always been good at figuring out what to do when he got like this.

“Look- I know those sorts'a feelings are tough, but... it’ll be okay, dude. Just give it time.” Somehow, that platitude actually meant something sincere, coming from Hunk with a firm but comforting pat on the shoulder. “I think… I think things are gonna work out fine for you.”

“How d’you figure that?”

He smiled serenely and took a bite of his cookie. “Just a hunch.”

* * *

Sven made for a fierce sparring opponent, but at least he took it seriously and wasn’t afraid to try something new even if it was unorthodox; he played by no rulebook and thus could always offer something unexpected. That was exactly the sort of thing Keith liked most about him, in general; you could never anticipate just how Sven was going to react or behave, and he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in rescripting himself to become a more normal sort of person. He was, in many ways, the kind of person that Keith wished he was allowed to be.

He continued to banter without so much as a hint of exhaustion, as if they were sitting down for dinner and not in the midst of a fight.

“You’ll never guess who I saw in the liquor store last weekend. Didn’t see _me, _thankfully.”

“Hmm. Was it Hunk?”

“Alright, not _that _unlikely.”

“I give up. Tell me.”

“You remember the instructor with the horrible moustache who never takes his beret off, right? I suppose he must be prematurely balding or something- he was getting the sort of expensive whiskey that only people with something to compensate for would buy. I’m certain you know him- The one with the death-grudge against Lance, even moreso than any other faculty.”

“Ah.” Keith thought back through the instructors he knew, until he reached who Sven must’ve been talking about; he shivered at the unpleasant memory associated with the man, nearly becoming distracted enough for Sven to land a hit before he rolled sidewards and replied.

“I think that was Major Wade. Yeah, he’s the one who tried to get Lance expelled.” Keith didn’t have a whole lot of adults he thought too highly of at the Academy, but Wade was definitely near the bottom of his list. What kind of man goads his student into attacking him with personal insults, then tries to kick him out knowing full well he had nowhere else to go? If not for any other reason, Keith hoped he’d one day rank higher than the man, and get to that echelon before he retired, just so he could freely tell him where he could shove it.

“Nearly succeeded, too.” Sven wasn’t able to move fast enough to evade Keith’s kick, but seemed unaffected, letting it give him momentum to spring backwards and recovering on his feet within moments. “If not for you.”

Keith said nothing. He didn’t like it when it was brought up, as if he’d done something that special; it was the only real choice he’d _had_. There wasn’t anything to be impressed by, even if there’d been a big personal risk- after all, it’s not like his motivations had been entirely unselfish. He wanted Lance around, because he liked him, liked him far more than he knew was permissible. He… more than liked him.

“You really ought to tell him, you know.”

“Huh?” What was Sven talking about? Tell whom what? Surely he didn’t mean-

“Lance isn’t going to just wait for you to do something.” Sven smiled with feigned innocence, turning to a smirk as he swept under Keith with a low kick, knocked him down while he was still stunned by what had been insinuated. Using _that _to distract him- a dirty trick.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Keith muttered, refusing Sven’s hand as he reached to help him up and brushing off his clothes as he stood- any excuse to avoid letting Sven see his face right now. “There’s nothing for me to tell Lance.”

“If you’re sure.” Sven shrugged and picked his towel up, patting his face dry with no trace of mischief in his voice, something that just set Keith more on edge. “I’m just trying to be a good friend, Keith. I wouldn’t want someone to go behind your back, knowing how you feel.”

“Look, whatever you think-“ Keith began, realizing midway through his sentence that he was inadvertently speaking too loud. He silenced himself in embarrassment, finishing in an angrily hissed whisper. “How should _you _know how I feel? There’s nothing to know!” And what was Sven talking about regarding _going behind your back? _What the hell was he implying, and why couldn’t he just say things straightforwardly for once?

Sven stared Keith down in a way that reminded him a bit too much of his mother, even though he certainly didn’t have the same fear and latent anger towards him. But something was similar in the way he seemed able to pry the truth from him with just his eyes, to find out whatever Keith wanted to hide most without him having to say a word, if even a crack of weakness was shown on his face.

“So, being as it is, you wouldn’t be angry if someone else were to become involved with him?”

Keith couldn’t think of a response. The circuits in his brain were already fried from the inability to integrate what he _should _say with what he knew Sven already knew he wanted to.

He was agitated for a moment and wanted to tell Sven off, but he knew that there wasn’t anything to fault him for; _he _was the one being irrational and unreasonable here. Sven was right- he’d already known, already _accepted _that this’d have to happen eventually. But when it was put in front of him so bluntly, without any room for denial, it felt intolerable.

“Of course I’d be angry,” Keith finally hissed, quietly and with equal amounts anger and shame. “I’d have no right to be. But I would.”

To his surprise, Sven put a hand on his shoulder, in what seemed like a genuine gesture of support and not a chance to make fun of him. He was taking this seriously, after all. “If you can admit that much, perhaps you’re not as hopeless as I’d thought.”

Keith scowled, angry with Sven for bringing all this up, for making it _real _before he’d had a chance to really accept things. “It’s that obvious, huh?” He felt a chill drop violently down his spine as he thought of all the things he might’ve said and done around far too many people to count, things that could serve as evidence of his most closely-held secret. “Who… who else knows?”

“Only those of us that actually know you, and know Lance. He himself certainly doesn’t, somehow.” There really wasn’t any malice in his eyes, in spite of how cornered he was making Keith feel. “I don’t understand why you’re so afraid of anyone finding out, though. It’s really not a big deal.”

Now he felt like fighting him again, fighting for real. How could Sven come and say these things to him, show off how free and careless he got to be? It wasn’t something he could ever say, but Keith envied Sven horribly, was angry at him and the universe itself that he got to say the things he said and do the things he did with no fear of repercussions. He resented Sven’s freedom. “You _don’t _understand. So shut up.”

Finally, he seemed to take the hint, looking taken aback for perhaps the first time Keith had seen. But Sven respected secrets, ultimately. He knew better than to ignore the warning signs here.

“Alright. Well…” He looked down for a moment, a split second where he nearly let his guard down. “I just wanted to- well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you, now.”

“Understood.” Maybe he sounded too harsh, too cold. Too much like his father. But Sven had hit first.

* * *

For a moment, he hesitated in the doorway; was he really gonna go to a ten-year-old for relationship advice? _That’s a new low even for you, McClain. _Finally, he tossed his bag down with an agitated sigh and climbed halfway up the ladder to Pidge’s bunk.

“Hey, Bird-Brain. Can I, uh… talk to you about something?”

“To _me? _” Pidge looked uncharacteristically nonplussed, evaluating Lance for some hint of a joke. Upon seeing that he was serious, Pidge straightened his glasses and made some space for Lance to sit down beside him, folding up his computer and crossing his legs. “I mean, sure. What is it?”

Lance climbed up and sat with his knees tucked in, feeling like an idiot. “I want to know what you’d do in a completely hypothetical situation.” He brushed his hair back nervously, wondering why he’d decided he felt up to this conversation. At least Pidge would probably be able to offer a rational analysis where he couldn’t come up with one himself.

Okay, _now _Pidge looked seriously interested. “Alright.”

“So, basically… if someone had a friend, and everything was good but they kinda wanted to be more than that too, but it’d probably just screw everything up to _say _that…” Lance trailed off, feeling more self-conscious with every word. Pidge totally knew exactly what he was talking about, didn’t he? Fuck- who was he kidding? Pidge wasn’t gonna buy the _hypothetical situation _gambit for a femtosecond.

“Well.” He was adjusting his glasses the way he did when he was mulling over a circuitry problem or a proof, but his expression was unreadable. “Is that all the data you’re gonna give me to work with?”

“One other thing.” It was difficult to ignore the instinct to curl up into a ball and hide, but if he didn’t open up about this thing to someone who might actually know how to help— it was just gonna get worse, the way it had been getting for weeks now. “What if— what if the someone is kinda not that… good? I mean, not that cool or smart or good-looking or likeable as the… their friend. Then what?”

It was unusual to see Pidge actually show sadness, but he seemed pretty… _bothered _by what Lance had said. “Lance, cut the crap— you’re not worse than Keith, and he _definitely _doesn’t think that. At _all._”

“Wh—“ Lance felt blood rush to his face. “I didn’t— I wasn’t—“

“I’m not great with people, I know, but I’m not totally blind.” Pidge leaned forward, examining Lance almost clinically, seemingly fascinated by his embarrassment. “I’m pretty sure Keith is the only oblivious one at this point.”

“So— He doesn’t _know, _right?”

“Nah. He’s too… he gets down really hard on himself, y’know. I think he sees himself as not that good compared to you, too.”

“Seriously? _How?”_

Pidge shrugged. “I think you need to talk to him, and… be honest about all this stuff.”

Lance nearly fell backwards. “You can’t— you _can’t _expect me to just _tell _him!”

“What, is it better to just sit on it and let it bug you forever? He’s not gonna… stop being your friend, no matter what. He cares about you more than you know.”

It still seemed like Pidge was holding some information back, but Lance didn’t really want to try and get it out. He had enough to think about as it was.

Seeing how listless he was getting, Pidge waved an arm in his face to get his attention. “C’mon, don’t brood over it. Things aren’t gonna go bad.”

“Like you’d know.”

“Hey, you wanted to ask _me _for a reason, right? I’m good at figuring stuff out n’ being objective about all this gross mushy stuff.”

“Hmmph.” Lance scowled, but he knew that Pidge probably knew better than he did; he never got carried away with his feelings.

“Hey, Lance. I’m serious,” Pidge told him as he climbed back down to his own bunk to half-sleep, half-mull over his options concerning his stupid fucking crush. “You’ve got to stop trying to run away from it. All that does is make you act weird and upset around him, which is gonna make things worse for both of you in the end.”

That broke through Lance’s discomfort with the whole idea; he hadn’t stopped to consider that he might be hurting Keith with the way these feelings were making him behave. If he kept them bottled up like this even longer, it’d only get worse.

“…I guess you’re right,” Lance muttered. “Thanks, Bird. I’ll… start thinking about doing it. Telling him, I mean.”

Pidge had a slightly impish grin. “Man, I can’t believe I used to think you were tough.”

“Oh, _fuck _off.”

“Is that any way to talk to a kid like me, Lance?”

“Go back to your nerd shit, already!” He growled, wishing he wasn’t so obviously embarrassed from the pitch of his voice going up. “I’m going to sleep. This conversation never happened, by the way.”

“Good night, Lover-Boy.”

Lance hissed and covered himself completely with his sheets, so as not to hear Pidge cackling at his expense. Why was all this feeling-ey crap so humiliating? He wished he could just say what needed to be said and get rejected and be _done _with it already, instead of agonizing over it, but things never _did _go easily for him.

Lance bet that Keith wouldn’t struggle over something like this. But then again, only an idiot would reject _him. _He just wished he stood even a _little_ chance to hold onto, was all. 

Just one in a million would be enough. Something to dream about.


	12. Starfall

The sun shone bright and clear over the rosy, irregular chunks of sandstone framing the valley where the Academy was nestled. The transit lines in and out wouldn’t start running for another couple of hours, so the track situated next to them was peacefully quiet, and the early-morning training was more pleasant than usual.

Keith didn’t like the feeling of running in circles, was all. There was nowhere to _get, _no destination. He’d rather they be allowed to take that trail out through the brush, but instead he was stuck with his prescribed laps around a dusty oval in the sand. Still, at least it didn’t require too much mental energy, and he could try and let go of his more bothersome thoughts for a while, focusing instead on one foot in front of the other.

Until, of _course, _he sees Lance ahead of him and suddenly that perfect, repetitive rhythm is thrown off. Now he’s not directionless anymore— running _towards _something.

He catches up to him pretty easily— but Lance just throws him a slight grin and picks up his pace. A playful challenge in his smirk and the dust clouds he kicks up. Again, Keith is chasing after him, the little bit of competition feeling comfortable and good-natured between them. He was almost enjoying himself too much like this.

But as they finished their rounds and Lance nudged him with a silent _race you back to the gate? _Keith felt the lightness in his body begin to fade, remembering what he was doing— thinking wrong. He stopped dead a few metres away, trying to martial his thoughts back to their correct patterns, trying not to feel warmth in his cheeks as he heard Lance’s quiet laugh of victory, trying not to look as Lance pulled up the front of his shirt to wipe his face off, and did a set of stretches—

“C’mon, Keith, why’d you give up when you were already right _there? _I’d say you had a thirty percent chance of winning if you just kept going.”

“I got distracted. Thought about something.”

“Huh. Is it— are you okay?”

He didn’t deserve the gentle, quiet affection-for-a-_friend-just-a-friend_, the flicker of concern on Lance’s face. But he knew he could, if he let himself, be selfish and greedy and look back at him all day.

But he _wouldn’t. _Instead, Keith looked up towards the sun, something else painfully bright and warm for a change.

“Of course I am. I just… I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

Lance nodded understandingly, apparently sensing that Keith would prefer if he didn’t ask about it. Keith was grateful for his respite, the way that Lance never pressured him into talking when he didn’t feel like it or dancing through those uncomfortable social intricacies. Instead, they could have this moment together in silence; standing side by side as the sun rose over the valley.

* * *

“Hey, Sven.” Lance coughed, looked over at Sven askance, trying to estimate whether it was safe to proceed. “Can I, uh… ask you something?”

“You can ask.” Sven looked almost coy, and leaned back against the wall relaxedly. “I can’t promise I’ll answer, though.”

Why’d he have to be so fucking difficult to have a real conversation with? They had a close bond, a sort of trust forged by their respective fates and a mutual understanding of the importance of secrets and boundary lines. But when it came to _discussion, _saying what was going on aloud, there was an invisible wall of sorts between them.

Well, he’d have to at least _try. _“I wanted to know, have you ever, uh…” He pursed his lips, unsure of how to make this sound a little less severe, less intimate. “Had… feelings, for someone?”

An eyebrow raised, an expression betraying nothing but a sight bemusement, or maybe curiosity. “Define, ‘feelings for someone’.”

“Well— I mean, like, for a friend or something. Like you like them as more than… that.”

A flicker of something nameless across his face. “Perhaps.”

“That’s not a straight answer, damn it,” He grumbled, regretting trying to talk about something _serious _with Sven for once. “It’s not like I’m asking you to tell me _who. _I just hoped you could give me some advice, but if you’re gonna throw stupid riddles at me—“

“It’s an awful feeling, isn’t it?” He smiled, eyes a calm and unreadable fog-grey. “When you feel that way about someone, entirely out of your control.”

There wasn’t really a good response to make to that, besides a pathetic nod in agreement. Lance’s shoulders slumped, and he wished that he hadn’t used up all his cigarettes already, or at least had _something _to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t have to look up and show his expression.

“Well, whatever _you _did about it must’ve worked, since you’re so blasé about it. I guess I just wanted to know how to make it less… shitty.”

“I think your situation is a little different than most, you know. I don’t think you’d regret it, if you told him.”

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” He knew he was getting too loud, too emotional again, losing control. “’Cause I’ve been just so _fucking _lucky with everything _else_ in my life, right? I’m sure this’d go just as well.”

“Lance— Listen.” Sven put a hand on his shoulder, and Lance didn’t shrug it off. He was giving a moment of rare sincerity, and he hardly wanted to refuse it now that he needed it most. “I know how important you are to Keith. I also know he’d never want to lose your friendship, no matter what you tell him.” He surveyed Lance becoming more and more flustered without even a hint of remorse. _Bastard._

“I was _wondering _when you were going to own up to it. You’ve felt this way for a while, haven’t you?”

“I don’t _know! _I don’t know when this started, or _why, _it just was kind of always there and I never really… let myself think about it." Lance huffed, blowing his bangs away from his face irritatedly. "But I guess I couldn’t keep it up. When did _you _notice…?”

“Something was up from the moment you became friends with him, honestly.”

“Fuck.” Lance kicked up some gravel as he leaned forward, hid his face in his arms. “How did I let this happen?”

“Well, what do you intend to do about it? Mope forever or at least _try _to say something?”

“_Enough, _already. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” Lance unscrewed the cap of the bottle and took a gulp, shuddering as the taste hit him. “This stuff is nasty. Why couldn’t you buy some plain vodka or something?”

“It’s got all these pretty flowers on the bottle, I thought it was nice. Who knows? It might just make you a better romantic.”

“Fuck off.”

“Anyways, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Sven mused, something like recklessness in the tone of his voice. “What _is _it that you like so much about him, anyways?”

* * *

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Maybe just a little.”

Lying down onto the table as if it were a comfortable mattress, Lance gave Keith a lopsided grin as he reclined over his carefully-prepared notes, taking up his entire field of vision.

“Lance! Didn’t you agree we were going to study tonight?”

“C’mon, it’s Friday night. No need to get all prissy. We can study tomorrow or somethin’.” He pulled out a paper bag from under a heap of books adjacent to his arm, waved it around in front of Keith. “D’you want any?”

He knew he shouldn’t, but his nerves were on high-alert and he felt pretty desperate to turn them down. “Sure.” Just a little wouldn’t hurt him, probably. If anything, it’d make trying to act normal around Lance a little easier. Keith winced after swallowing the bitter liquor— it tasted as though he might’ve as well been drinking cologne, but he could feel himself becoming slightly less tense already.

Suddenly Keith felt pretty weird sitting _normally _in his chair; he got up and sat on the edge of the table himself, so he wouldn't need to feel like a spectator to... well, Lance.

“You’re gonna get yourself into trouble,” Keith muttered. “This is a _quiet study _room, remember? And I booked it so we could _study _in it.”

“’S not like there’s cameras in here,” Lance rebutted. “And I _checked. _I always do, y’know.”

“Well—“ Now something sort of petty and angry and jealous was rising out of Keith, and he’d lost his grip on it with that drink. “Why aren’t you hanging out with Sven, if all you want to do is fuck around? I bet he’s less boring and _prissy _than me.”

Lance didn’t really seem to notice any of the emotions behind the outburst. “I was with ‘im just now, but he was bein’ an asshole, so I left- fuck 'im. I’d rather distract _you _from your studies.” He grinned at him with some frightening, exciting idea sparkling in his eyes.

Keith looked away, unable to formulate a reply through his tied tongue and racing thoughts; Lance filled the silence himself without missing a beat.

“Hey, you wanna know somethin’ interesting?” He murmured conspiratorially, propping himself up on an elbow to speak more closely to Keith's ear, and not bothering to wait for a response to the question. “Sven had a twin brother once, just like Pidge. But he died, 'cause of this thing that hit a bunch of the Crydorian survivors once they got to Earth. There was some kinda element the Drule use in their weapons that makes people go crazy, n' eventually kills ‘em. Haggarium.”

"He... had..." Keith couldn't choke out more than that, mouthing the strange and terrible new word _haggarium _silently; unable to parse what he was hearing relative to _Sven, _who he'd never ever _ever _guessed...

Lance frowned at his aghast expression, rolled over. He lay silent for a moment, before continuing.

“Anyways, I figure that’s why he’s so fond of Pidge n’ Chip... poor bastard. ‘Least my whole family went at once.”

Where the hell did _that _come from? Why was Lance telling him this now?

“I… uhm. That’s pretty bad.” Keith _knew _this wasn’t something Sven would ever have consented to telling anyone, so how’d he know in the first place?

Lance practically read his mind, or at least the confused shock on his face. “He only told me that ‘cause _he _was really fuckin' drunk and really fuckin' depressed. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but… whatever. He was bein’ a dick to me first.”

Keith didn’t know what to say to _any _of that. So he sat silently, trying to filter through all this new information and make sense of Lance's words, when he was snapped out of it by an unfamiliar sort of touch on his back.

He barely resisted jumping up in shock as he felt arms drape casually around his neck, followed closely by lips brushing uncoordinatedly against the back of his head and a teasing voice mumbled through his hair. Lance was sitting up now, wrapping himself around Keith from behind completely without embarrassment, without _hesitance—_

“Remember when y’did that t’me? Betcha thought I wouldn’t notice.” Lance laughed, climbed over him and practically _onto _him, grinning at the embarrassment he was causing like this was a sort of game. “I dare you to do it on the _other _side of my head this time.” He leaned in with a mischief-ridden smile, pointed to his lips. “C’mon.”

It hurt to have him this close and this tempting, knowing he was only acting this way because he was drunk, and that it didn’t mean anything to him— at least, not like it did to…

“No.” Was his voice shaking? Was his _body?_ Why did it have to be so damn difficult to pull away— was this a test of strength, of discipline? Sometimes it felt like the universe really _did _have it out for him. “You’re drunk, and you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Am I really that…” Lance looked away and backed off of Keith, curling up as he retreated to the far end of the table ledge, as if they were both stranded with this mess of emotions on a desert island instead of severely misusing the study room table. It seemed like he was really… hurt. “Look, I know’m nothing much, but you could at least... humour me. Pretend I don’t look weird and repulsive and—”

“It’s not _like _that! I think you’re— very, um, you know.” Keith gulped and prayed internally that Lance wouldn’t remember a damn thing he said tonight. “Attr- uh. Nice to look at. It’s just…”

Lance leaned forward, his face flushed from intoxication, eyes seeking something in Keith’s own so damn openly, the slight insecure frown on his lips looking _way _too inviting for a kiss.

“I can’t, not when you’re like this. You’d regret it.”

“Would _not,” _Lance slurred, tucking his legs in and curling up like a cat. “Are we bestest friends or what? It’s not a big deal. Just a little kiss.”

“It _is _a big deal to _me_,” Keith mumbled embarrassedly. _Please please _please_ let him forget everything I say tonight. _ “Do you do that with… _all _your friends?” He didn’t have to say any name, couldn’t have brought himself to. He was scared to know, but some masochistic part of his psyche demanded an answer now that he had this sole chance to find out.

Lance shook his head definitively, and Keith was ashamed of how glad he was, how quickly the heavy weight on his chest lifted with that answer.

“No way. Never wanted to.” A surprisingly earnest smile from Lance, the herbal smell of gin in the scant space between their faces, the taste of his heart in his throat. “Just you.”

He could just give in. It’d be his only chance to ever ever _ever _do this, it’d make Lance happy, and he probably wouldn’t even remember…

“No, Lance. I can’t. I really _can’t.”_

“I don’t get why you’re freaking out,” Lance muttered, looking more than a little resentful. “It’s not like I’m asking you to fuck me.” Keith jumped upward in pace with his heartbeat, nearly falling backwards off his seat. Lance didn’t seem discouraged by the reaction. “But, y’know, if you _wanted to—“_

“Shut up! Shutupshutup_shutup_!” Keith strained to keep the pitch and volume of his voice from skyrocketing as he stumbled backwards, staring at Lance incredulously, his face growing so hot that it nearly burned. He hadn’t meant it to come could sounding so _angry, _but— just how out of it _was _he, to say something like… “Christ, Lance— don’t just— don’t _say _things like that!”

Amazingly, it didn’t even seem to _register _to Lance that he’d made that kind of absurd advance; he tilted his head in confusion, watching Keith struggle to recompose himself like he couldn’t imagine what was so shocking about his mundane comment. He really _was _out of his right mind, and Keith swore to himself he’d never tell him what kinds of things he’d said and done in this state; things he’d never want to say or do otherwise.

Finally, Lance turned away, his sense of dejection evident in his voice. “D’you... want to, though? Try kissing me, I mean. Even a little bit?”

It wouldn’t hurt to give him _something. _Would it?

“Maybe.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. It seemed like that answer had caught him off guard. It encouraged Keith to say a little more, more than he knew he ought to. “And if you weren’t— if you asked when you hadn’t— why _do _you want that from me, Lance? Why me?”

“Why not?”

Keith exhaled, tried to form words that wouldn’t do any more damage. He wanted to say yes so _badly— _but it’d be so _wrong, _unforgivable.

“I’m gonna head back to the dorms. I need to get some sleep, and so do you. Let’s get you back to your room.”

Lance looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t string together the sentences, so he just huffed indignantly. “Fine.”

* * *

Lance could only vaguely make out the discussion that was making the ringing in his ears even worse. He didn’t want to let them know he was still awake, though. It might be good to know what they really thought of him, when he wasn’t listening, maybe Keith’d tell Pidge exactly _why _he totally definitely doesn’t like him and won’t even kiss him a little bit.

“Again?”

“I’m really sorry, Pidge—“

“Why are you apologizing for him? _He’s _the one doing this practically every weekend now.”

“He didn’t before. Never _this _much… Still, it’s really not fair for you to deal with a roommate who does this all the time, friends or not, I know that.”

“Look, it’s not just that I’m annoyed or mad at him or whatever. I’m kind of worried, Keith.”

“You too?”

“Mm. I think… I think he’s just not in a good state of mind. He doesn’t really know how to deal with stuff that well.”

“Do you think it could be—“

“I know what you’re gonna say, Keith, and it’s not you— well, not really. I’ll give him hell about this tomorrow, hopefully if he knows he’s burdening _you _he’ll cut it out.”

“Don’t make him feel bad!”

“Hey, it’s for his own good. One of these days he’s gonna get into serious trouble. And you won’t be able to save him twice.”

“Well… I guess you’re right. Goodnight.”

The door shut and the quiet that followed made Lance uneasy, moreso than the way he felt the room swaying back and forth or the heaviness in his limbs. There was too much to think about now, that he wanted to drown out, that he wanted to forget but also _didn’t. _He really _was _a thorn in Keith’s side. No wonder he was starting to hate him.

* * *

“Sorry I got out of hand last night,” Lance looked down, somewhat abashed, and Keith cursed himself for finding it so damn endearing. “I guess… I overestimated myself. Pidge says you pretty much took care of me all night.”

“It’s fine,” He replied, careful to keep his voice under control and not to give anything away. “Do you feel alright?”

“My head feels like it’s gonna explode. More from Pidge yelling at me than the actual hangover, honestly.” An embarrassed grin caught Keith off-guard, and he felt his cheeks grow warmer. “But… besides that I’m okay— I just wish I remembered what _happened_. l feel like…” He paused, frowned pensively. “Like I said or did something I _should _remember, but I don’t.”

Thank God— he forgot! _He forgot!_

But he had to know for _sure—_

“Well… what _do _you remember?”

Lance looked away, brows furrowing and frowning frustratedly as he strained for the memories that eluded him. “Well… I remember we were sitting together and I started running my mouth about something stupid, but I don’t remember _what.” _Suddenly lifting his head, looking almost panicked in his urgency, he looked to Keith with wide eyes. “I didn’t say anything weird, right?”

Weird. Weird weird weird weird _weird. _Had he said anything weird, or was it Keith’s fault that things took that turn? Hadn’t he been the one to make their friendship _weird _with his _weird _feelings and his _weird _damn self from day one?

“No.”

A cautiously relieved smile, but a trace of suspicion remaining in Lance’s eyes. “…You sure?”

Keith looked away, not wanting to let Lance examine his expression for a suggestion of less-than-perfect honesty. “Don’t worry about it. By the way, we got homework in the ballistics class you missed this morning. I managed to pass your absence off by saying you got sick, but… ”

Lance groaned. “Okay, lesson learned. I should never drink the night before morning classes.”

“Not that much, anyways.”

“Well, thanks for saving me, as usual.” Lance bumped shoulders with him warmly, gratefully. He was going for his usual sarcastic edge, but the thing about Lance was… when he was being genuine, it was hard for him to hide it, even from someone as bad at reading people-signals as Keith. “I owe you one.”

Keith offered a careful, slight smile, desperately hoping Lance couldn’t see his face burning. “Don’t mention it. That’s what friends are for, right?”

For a brief moment, Lance’s expression changed, seemed pensive and almost distant before reverting to his grin. “Yeah. What friends are for.”

Keith _knew _there was something that Lance had just inadvertently communicated to him, something he _should _be able to understand and figure out; but he had no idea, and it wasn’t like he could ask. All he could hope is that it didn’t mean anything bad.

* * *

“I fucked up, Pidge-o.” Lance mumbled, burying his head in his arms. 

“You sure did.”

"Hey— you were supposed to _reassure _me!”

“You didn’t tell me that. ‘Sides, I don’t see the point of lying to you. That was a pretty big bomb you dropped on Keith, from what I know.”

“I’m a moron.”

“Only half the time. The other half, you’re pretty smart. Binge drinking never helped anyone make good decisions, though.”

“I don’t know how I managed to let all that happen.” Lance dug his fingernails angrily into his crossed arms, feeling a new wave of humiliation hit him with every small tidbit of memory he rediscovered. “I wonder if—“

“He still thinks you only did that ‘cause you were wasted,” Pidge interrupted, apparently knowing disturbingly well what was stressing Lance out before he could even finish the thought. _He thinks he’s not good with people, but in a lot of ways, he can read them like lines of code. “ _I didn’t tell him otherwise— you’re welcome, by the way.”

“Oh.” Lance breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight lifted from his chest. “Yeah. Great. Thanks.”

The look Pidge gave him— almost creepy, the way the light from his computer screen hit his glasses, and catlike green eyes that practically glowed in the dark— was one of genuine sympathy. It made Lance feel like shit all over again, about the fact he was dumping all these stupid teenage problems onto a kid with more than enough to deal with as it was. He just hoped he could pay back the favour someday.

“You _still _need to work this out, though. Sooner rather than later.”

Lance fell back onto the floor, staring at the ceiling light, Pidge in the chair at the desk now just a blob on the periphery of his vision. “You’re getting sick of my moping, huh?”

“Kinda,” Pidge admitted. “But… it’d be best for you, too. Once you get the hard part over with, you’ll feel better.”

These lights didn’t have much warmth to their colour; a bleak and stark white, not quite a cool blue or sunshine gold. Lance closed his eyes.

“…Right.”

* * *

“You’re giving me that look.”

“What look?”

“The pitiful kind.” Sven kicked his legs as he stretched forward idly. "He told you, didn’t he?“

“Uhm." Keith swallowed anxiously and looked askance. "He did tell me… _some _stuff, about you, when he drank too much last week.”

Sven was carefully, precisely calibrating the paper ball in his hand, adjusting his arm for the perfect trajectory into the wastebasket at the corner of their room. “Like my brother.”

Keith stared at his feet, feeling like melting into a puddle and seeping under the beds into nothingness, embarrassed to know something he _knew _he shouldn’t be privy to in front of the person that secret had belonged to. Sven didn’t seem upset, though. He hit the rim of the wastebasket, but the wad of crunched-up sheets just barely bounced into the bin. He smiled slightly at his victory. “Lance and I got into a bad sort of argument, just a little earlier. I suppose that’s why.”

Even though it wasn’t all that cold here, even late in autumn, Keith felt a chill of discomfort shake his spine. “Why would he tell me... _that_, though? Just because he’s mad at you?”

Now Sven was folding something out of study notes he must’ve gotten bored of, methodically creasing and wrapping together the bits of paper into strange shapes. He looked directly at Keith without warning, and the odd sense of foreboding grew stronger.

“I understand a part of Lance I don’t think you’ll ever be able to, Keith, just because… I don’t think you’ll ever be _willing _to understand it. The thing about him is, he’ll keep secrets well until he wants to hurt you, for whatever reason. Not because he’s malevolent, but because… he feels frightened or hurt and wants to retaliate. It’s his nature.”

Keith shook his head nearly violently, feeling a little betrayed by his own ears, since now that he’d _heard _it he’d have to think about it and consider it and maybe even realize—

“I can’t believe you.”

Sven shrugged, turned his attention back to the paper figurine in his hands; he looked to be fashioning a goose-like creature, or a swan. He carefully manipulated a pointy part into a neck and head, complete with a beak. “I figured you’d say that.”

Shifting in his seat, the bedsheets suddenly felt as uncomfortable to rest on as hot stone. “Are you angry at him?”

“Not really, no. I think I brought this one upon myself.” Sven inspected his handiwork, then threw it across the room without warning towards the wastebasket, as if he was half-expecting it to come to life and fly. “He’s noticed you’ve become avoidant of him recently, by the way; is that really the best strategy you could come up with?”

Just like Sven to turn the conversational tables on him. Keith wanted to close up and find an excuse to just get up and _go, _but part of him realized that Sven’s brutal honesty with the situation at hand was his own sort of friendly help, help that he desperately needed. He sighed, brushing his hair back nervously as he formulated his reply.

“I know that I’ll need to talk to him about— about _that, _if we stick close, and… maybe I can just distance myself from him. It’s not like he doesn’t have other friends, so… eventually he’ll care less what’s up with me. He’ll give up on me and we’ll both be free.”

The sound of paper crumpling and tearing a little less neat and controlled than before; Sven was back to balling up projectiles destined for the trash bin.

“Is that really what you think is going to happen?” There wasn’t any mirth in his smile; the coldness of that look he was giving him confirmed it. “I didn’t take you for an idiot, Keith. What, do you _like _hurting him?”

Keith felt himself grow angry, angry enough to nearly lose control of his tongue, but as he moved to curse Sven out for even _thinking _something like that…

He _was _doing that, wasn’t he? Hurting Lance, and he _knew _he was hurting him, and he _kept _hurting him all because he was a coward.

Turning around and stalking off because he just _couldn’t _find an honest response in himself, couldn’t reach anything past the thorny walls of fear and hesitance— Sven didn’t follow him or offer any more cutting words. He must’ve known he’d left a pretty bad mark as it was.

It was too much to think about, let alone act upon. But… he owed it to Lance, didn’t he? He might as _well _like hurting him, for the way he was acting.

Still, too daunting for today. Too many things he had no idea how to say and replies he’d rather die than hear in the aftermath.

_Maybe tomorrow._

* * *

Keith _did _hate him now, didn’t he? Why else was he deliberately looking away from him, avoiding being even in the same space as him, ignoring him completely?

Even Hunk admitted that Keith was acting weird, even though he totally knew something Lance didn’t about it, and just wouldn’t own up to it. Maybe he’d yelled at him and Pidge and Sven too much, the way he’d exploded when none of them had any explanation to give him.

_They just don’t want to admit to me that he’s rejected me already. They know it, but they won’t fucking _tell _me._

Still, even though he knew for sure, was sure he knew, something kept him hoping he was wrong— watching Keith from the periphery of the room, trying desperately to lock eyes with him for just a second, feeling so damn pathetic and vulnerable and _weak. _He hated it, hated it to _death, _and he’d _let _it happen. Trusted Keith and let him do this to him.

Tidal waves of hurt interchanged between misery and rage, one after the other, over and over. He had to confront him. Make him _say it to his face, _tell him how he’d fucked up bad enough to lose him after everything. Just finish the job in one blow and quit dragging it out.

After finishing his bumbling apologies as the anger broke against the shorelines of his heart, Lance sat down with his arms folded over his legs defeatedly. His friends weren’t even looking at him with any anger or irritation over the whole outburst, just something like pity, which was far worse.

“Hey. Uh… I think your idea about confronting him is a pretty good one, actually.” Lance looked up, surprised that Hunk was the one approving of his idea; Pidge and Sven looked to him with some surprise, too. “I mean, it’s kinda necessary. You should tell him he’s been messin’ with you by acting like this. He can be kinda oblivious, so probably he doesn’t even _know _how bad you’re takin’ it.”

Sven nodded slowly, appraisingly. “I suppose you’re right. Put him in the hot seat and see what he has to say for himself.”

“Hmmph. It’s gonna be a hell of a time getting his attention long enough to ask any questions,” Lance grumbled into his knees. “Can’t even get two seconds from him.”

“Well… I know for a fact he’s been going out to the top of that old weather tower every night this week while the Leonids are going on.”

“The what?”

“They were mentioned in _class, _you know.”

Lance drew a blank, and Pidge grumbled in frustration.

“The meteoroids! The ones that are coming as a full-on storm rather than a shower this year, which only happens every thirty-three years? That’ll be messing with all our communication infrastructure in this quadrant? How do you forget something that _cool?”_

“I guess I’m pretty bad with remembering all this space stuff, all things considered.” Lance grinned in spite of himself, a stray thought illuminating his mind that of _course _Keith’d be excited about something like this. He’d love to see him staring up at the sky with joy and amazement, one more time…

Then he remembered, that was _before. _That wasn’t going to happen again.

“How do you know he’s up there?” _And why’d he tell _you _about it? _Lance didn’t want to make an unnecessary scene again, when he _knew _it was all over something stupid— but he’d really sort-of hoped that Keith had told him and only him about that place. Hold on a second— Keith _had _said that he’d asked Pidge for help with breaking into the tower in the first place. Lance swallowed down a lump of embarrassment in his throat. Was he really itching that bad for reasons to get stupidly jealous and… territorial?

“He asked, actually, where’d be the best place to watch it. I figured out the highest reasonably accessible point that also had the highest average distance from light sources. I’d go myself, but Hunk and I have a project due tomorrow morning, and _Sven _has a navigation midterm to cram for.” Glowering over at Sven, Lance felt a pang of vicarious fear; it was difficult to process just how intimidating a kid like Pidge could be when he wanted. “What’s it with you and blowing things off until the last minute? When are you gonna learn it always ends up screwing you over?”

Sven shrugged, taking another fistful of chips from Hunk’s bag. “I thrive in high-pressure environments.” He gave Lance a coy, ambiguous sort of smile. “Anyways, make sure you give Keith hell.”

Lance looked away, hoping his expression appeared more irritated than anxious. There wasn’t any way to escape this, so he’d just have to grit his teeth and get through. _It’ll be like ripping a bandage off, _he told himself. _It’ll hurt like hell, but at least it’ll be over and you’ll _know.

But he didn’t really _want _to know. It had been so nice to have something to attach some hope to, something bright on his horizon. It’d be less like peeling away a bandage and more like blacking out the sun.

* * *

The meteor storm was incredible, shimmering with sparks of light coming loose and falling across the sky. It was so quiet up here, so unlike the persistent noise and harsh lighting of the world below. Keith got lost in the imagined freedom of being one of those pieces of ice and stone, breaking away from its meteor and burning out so brightly for its short but perfect life, he nearly missed the sound of footsteps until they’d stopped a few metres behind him.

Lance in front of him as he turned around, looking at him with that exact expression he’d been so afraid of.

“What the fuck is going on, Keith?”

Keith shifted side to side on his feet, suddenly wishing he’d brought a warmer jacket as the chills of guilt hit him harder than the nighttime air.

“I… don’t know what you mean.”

“_Quit _playing _fucking _dumb,” Lance hissed violently. “You at least owe me the truth on this much.” Anger and pain and dejection in his eyes, the ones that were so damn hard to look into when Keith knew he’d caused all the hurt he saw in them. “Have you been avoiding me?”

He couldn’t answer that honestly, there was no way. Keith bit his lip, trying to control his tone of voice and not betray too much of what he was feeling.

“No.”

“Don’t _bullshit _me, Kogane! I know what’s going on,” Lance seethed, the hurt evident in his shaking fists- something silvery shining in the corners of his eyes, something that echoed in the tremors of his voice right beneath the anger. “You’re sick of me, right? Is that it?”

“No— no, never.” This was dangerous. Keith was reaching his breaking point, and it was getting more and more difficult to keep his voice level. “I could never get sick of you, Lance. That’s just the problem.”

Lance didn’t reply right away, standing silently and trying to absorb what Keith was saying. “I don’t… what the hell are you talking about, Keith? What’s going on?” His lower lip quivered, in contrast with the anger in his voice. “Just— Just tell me what I did _wrong, _damn it! What did I _do_?”

Jesus, was that what Lance thought had happened— that this was _his _fault? Keith felt even angrier with himself than he had before. Of _course _it was; he’d fucked up again, and made Lance feel like he’d failed somehow all because Keith was too much of a goddamn coward to admit that _he _was the fucked-up one.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I did, and—” Look away, look somewhere, _anywhere _else. “And I’ve been doing it for a while, too.”

“…Huh?”

The sky was so clear and beautiful tonight; it seemed ironic for something so breathtakingly expansive, eternal, _infinite _to stretch out above them, when Keith knew he was about to send his whole universe collapsing inwards. He’d prefer if one of those meteors scattering so far above them would land neatly on his head right now.

“I’m sorry, Lance. This is all my fault, not yours.” Now he was trembling, and his eyes were welling up with tears, and there was nothing he could do to hold it back. “You’re right, I _was _avoiding you. I was scared because I knew I had to- I have to tell you something.”

Stepping closer, Lance’s posture became less defiant, a little less guarded. “You can tell me anything, Keith. I thought you knew that.”

“No, I— this is different,” Keith felt his heart leap into his throat, and his knees get a little weaker. He really had to do this, now. Destroy everything that had made him so happy, everything that had made his life warm and bright for the first time. “And I’m sorry, I’m sorry you have to know this, I’m sorry all this is happening, I’m—”

“Sorry for _what?” _Lance cut his avoidant rambling off abruptly, impatiently. There wasn’t going to be any way around this now.

“I, uhm.” Keith felt like he was choking, bit his lip as he struggled with the abundance of words threatening to burst out of his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he wasn’t going to get a chance for all of it. All he had to do was say that one sentence and it’d all be over. “I need to tell you something really serious, Lance, and you won’t— you _won’t _like it.”

Lance stepped closer, his face no longer shadowed with anger but instead with curiosity, with concern. He could_ tell _that this was bad, whatever Keith was about to say to him.

“Then_ tell _me.”

Keith looked down, couldn’t bear to watch and see how Lance reacted. “I really like you, Lance. Not— not just as a— I mean, I have all these kinds of feelings, and—” All he had to was spit it out— why was this so _hard? _All he could manage was a few words at a time.

Lance watched him with apprehension, a confused sadness evident in the tilt of his head. Dragging this out was hurting him, wasn’t it? He had to spit it out, get this done and over with, like pulling a trigger and letting go, but it hurt it hurt it _hurt—_

“I think I’m in love with you.”

In the moment of silence that followed, the sky flickered with the light of another barrage of meteorites that came down all at once, white streaks across darkness like a scratched-up old video reel or a time-worn photograph.

Keith swallowed back the urge to fall apart and collapse to the ground, unable to look up at Lance and see the horror and betrayal that must be written on his face. “I’m sorry, I ruined everything, I know it’s wrong and I’m _sorry!” _He realized just how loud his voice had gotten as he lost control, and shrank back into a shaky whisper. _“ _I never meant to… do this to you. But I can’t stop feeling this way, I tried and I _can’t_.”

Silence for a moment as Lance was taken aback, maybe a little frightened— or just stunned. Finally, he responded; wary, the suspicion clear in his voice.

“Is this a trick you’re trying to play on me?” His eyes narrowed, darting rapidly across Keith’s face, reading and re-reading him. “Or some kind of joke?”

Keith stood still, silent, unable to breathe or even blink.

“You can’t really… _mean _that,” he muttered, more to himself than to Keith. He seemed like he was in some kind of angry shock. “No way you could, no.”

Keith said nothing, but met Lance’s eyes, saw his expression soften. As he stood still in wait of the fallout, trembling and ashamed and terrified, Lance saw just how serious he was.

“You… _do _mean it.”

“More than anything,” Keith whispered hoarsely. “I mean it.”

Lance examined him more closely, still uncertain but slowly shifting into acceptance that Keith was telling him the truth.

Keith waited for him to turn away, or yell at him, or to show some sign of disgust or hatred. He shut his eyes and steeled himself, but when he opened them again, Lance had only gotten closer to him, now leaning in and looking him directly eye-to-eye— with no anger or disappointment in his eyes, just… a vulnerable, scared look of his own. His face redder than before it had been from just the cold, and his hands hovered above Keith's shoulders with the slightest pressure of a tentative touch.

His face was close, close enough to feel the pattern of his breathing, to see the stars reflected in his eyes. Their noses were nearly touching, and it was impossible to move or speak or even _think_.

“If— if you were just messing with me…” His voice was shy, every word quiet and cautious. “You’d have pulled away by now, right?” The hands he was resting on Keith’s shoulders held on so lightly, as if he was afraid that Keith didn’t want them there.

Could it be— 

No. It _couldn't. _Never, never, never, and yet here he _was, _right in front of him, coming only closer— 

His hands drifted forward, just grazing Lance barely, and he felt that same shakiness that was already in his own fingers; that nervous tremble from the fear of impending rejection.

Did Lance… feel that way too? Feel that way about _him? _

He hadn’t thought of it as even a remote possibility, but the way that Lance was making a careful approach of his own, the blushing and the frightened twitch of his lip and the way he was looking at him when their eyes met— maybe he _did—_

Keith couldn’t hesitate any longer. He leaned a little more forward, and felt Lance do so in turn; he wasn’t alone in this, wasn’t the only one feeling nervous and anxious and terrified and all those other feelings— he closed his eyes, and allowed himself to pull Lance into his arms. To meet his lips.

Maybe forever passed them by, maybe the world ended and the universe collapsed and re-expanded in that moment, but he wouldn’t have noticed. All he felt, all that mattered was that he was kissing Lance, that Lance was kissing him.

Above them, the stars kept falling.


	13. Eventually

Lance didn’t want to go to sleep, damn it; what if this was his dreamworld, and the moment his head hit the pillow he’d wake up and go back to his own reality, the one where Keith didn’t just kiss him…?

Keith liked him, too. He _did. _That was- this was too good to be true, but it _was. _At least it seemed like Keith was reluctant to go, too. As they idled where they’d usually part ways to their rooms, he tightened his grip on Lance’s hand momentarily, gave him a shy smile.

Lance felt tongue-tied, still having trouble _processing _all this. But he was alright with that, somehow; okay with not knowing what the outcome of all this was going to be or how he was going to handle it or just how vulnerable he’d let himself become. With Keith, that was okay. He could get through anything with him.

“Uhm, well…” Keith whispered, and even though the nighttime lighting was dim and tinted blue his face seemed to have a warm glow, bright like the sun. “I guess we should…”

It wasn’t easy for him, either. That much was comforting, and Lance could only hope he looked half that endearing when he was lost for words. He took his chance, wanting to stretch it out longer but even a _moment _was more than he’d have dreamed— pulled him close and kissed him, feeling no hesitation in the response. Keith brushed his hand against Lance’s face briefly, feather-lightly, like a moth’s wing.

“Goodnight.”

Eventually exhaustion won over his cavalcade of emotions and he managed to close his eyes, his nerves frayed and limbs heavy with weariness from the weight he’d only now been allowed to put down. His last threads of consciousness, finally giving way to sleep, repeated again and again what Keith had told him tonight.

He’d said- _I think I’m in love with you. _Words that echoed through Lance’s mind even now.

Words that’d keep him warm for a lifetime, maybe; even here in the pitch-darkness of his room, it felt like he was lying under the sun.

Glowing.

* * *

Distantly, some news reached them about a fallen planet, and its lost armaments- some legendary warrior, in the form of a machine. This came and went through morning coffee chats in staff rooms and hallways, but only the most fleetingly touched the mind of any cadet— least of all those otherwise preoccupied. Eventually, they’d learn it all, anyhow.

* * *

There was a rush every time Keith remembered that he was allowed to say and do the things he’d only dreamt of before; he could say those sappy things to Lance and not fear rejection, could reach for his hand and take it, could kiss him in those quiet corners where nobody would see them together. He still hadn’t totally absorbed that this was really happening, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to totally believe his luck. But when Lance gave him a lopsided grin before gently leaning against him, interlacing their fingers together, Keith didn’t really care about anything else and whether it was real or not. He had Lance here with him, _alone _with him, and that was all that mattered.

“I’d never realized how hard it is to get some privacy in this place before,” Lance murmured, his voice softer than usual. “But it’s gonna be a pain trying to stop myself from kissing you in public.”

“Yeah, I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Keith.”

“It _is, _though. Maybe if I wasn’t…” He sighed frustratedly and brushed his hair back. “I just wish I could make myself stop caring. Do and say whatever I wanted.”

Lance snorted. “And then what? You’d be- well, in a lot of trouble. It’s not worth it.” Keith could hear the implication: _I’m not worth it. _And he made it clear how he felt about _that _with an agitated forehead kiss.

With a small, defeated sigh, Lance threw his weight against him, demanding a little more contact. “Well, I’ll take what I can get while I can, right?” Trademark black humour laced into his words, grazing Keith like the edge of a knife.

But there really wasn’t anything he could say to counter that, anything that wouldn’t be an obvious, awful lie. So Keith said nothing, just appreciated how soft Lance’s hair felt with his head pressed against his neck. How well their fingers wove together, almost unconsciously finding one another even in the darkness.

* * *

Keith blinked in uncomfortable surprise, realizing who was standing at the far end of the hall just as he left class for the midday break— Why was his father here?

Maybe it had something to do with that recent Drule attack in the Far Universe— Keith didn’t hear too much about that. In fact, his training touched surprisingly little on the ongoing war. Nonetheless, that wasn’t important right now. What _was _crucial was the concerted, deferent performance he had now to improvise, with no time given for any sort of rehearsal. He thought through his routine, as Father gestured for him to follow into the enclave where portraits were kept of old war heroes and legendary leaders, tracing a familiar path to the part of the catacomb that functioned as a shrine to the Kogane family. Something similar existed for his mother’s family in another Academy outpost, he knew. Some other GA school in some other desert, with some other chamber of awards and honours, but the same uncomfortable and suffocating feeling.

Quietly calculating each perfect, straight-backed step, Keith only vaguely listened as his father complained about something or the other regarding the recent affairs at the Garrison. He was more preoccupied with the rest of his family, displayed in holoscreens all along the pathway, their faint blue aura giving them a ghostly presence. Weren’t ghosts supposed to be able to see your sins, and know what you were hiding…?

He wondered if all of these men and women had been equally severe as his father, if any of them had ever deviated from that ideal he’d been told was his obligation by blood. Nobody smiled in their portraits, or offered the slightest suggestion of softness in their eyes, eyes that even in these ancient photographs felt as keen and observant as wolves stalking prey. Searching for a sign of weakness, something that’d give Keith away as unwelcome amongst the clan.

Judging by the sheer number of generations present, Keith figured most of these ancestors had had spouses, but— he wondered how many of them had ever been in love, and how that had turned out for them. Perhaps those were the ones who didn’t get talked about by his living family, and whose relics and images weren’t preserved so painstakingly. After all, it seemed incompatible with everything else a Kogane ought to be.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?”

Keith’s heart froze for a second, realizing that he’d zoned out of his father’s monologue. He nodded quickly, praying this was the regular, one-sided sort of conversation where that’d suffice.

It either was the correct reply, or Father wasn’t paying attention to him. He continued, and Keith listened more carefully this time.

“The standards of this Academy used to be a lot higher; I’ve heard about some of the things that go on around here unpunished, or simply unnoticed; the sort of behaviour you’d expect from _civilian _teenagers… misdemeanours, contraband substances, all manner of indiscretions.” He looked up at his own father, Keith’s grandfather. Something like resentment rested in the lines on his face, and he looked tired and angry for a fraction of a second— _human. _He’d not seen much of the man before his death, but he wondered if the relationship between him and his father was the same as what Keith had to put up with right now.

“It makes me worry about the future of the Alliance to see what sorts are being allowed to pass through here,” Father continued. “But I suppose it can’t be helped, with how many of the best and brightest are either in service offworld or got picked off in the Middle Universe battles; you wouldn’t remember, but when you were a child…” He trailed off. Abruptly, he turned around and looked squarely at Keith, apparently finished his silent confrontation with Grandfather.

“Anyways, I’m mainly concerned about how it might affect your resources when you become an officer. One needs good soldiers, obedient and dedicated ones. Most of these refugee-wards have behavioural problems, unresolved damage from their experiences, all manner of personal issues incompatible with success. That’ll make them liable to crack under pressure, and a liability in battle.”

_Very sympathetic as always, Father. _Keith swallowed down a bitter, angry reply. Instead, he took his chance to field a couple of questions whilst he had the opportunity.

“Sir, if I could ask… what brought you to the Academy all of a sudden? I mean, you usually tell me…”

“It was a general council on some retaliatory campaign the Alliance is considering. I wanted to bring forward my objections, seeing as it’d be a massive waste of our already depleted resources to try and clean up the Far Universe about now. Let them clean up their own messes; pompous Arusian bastards are more trouble than they’re worth as members.”

Keith had no idea who the Arusians were or what had happened, but he was glad to know that Father’s visit didn’t have anything to do with him, or worse yet, him and Lance. His parents wouldn’t go out of their way to praise him, after all, so if they did come after him like this…

“I also thought I’d take a moment to discuss a few things with your supervisors. You’re heading into your last year of general training, now— we’ve been planning what you’ll be assigned for your finishing year. It’s essential that you get a properly rigorous assignment, so we’re leaving nothing to chance.”

Looking down, Keith felt a moment’s dizziness hit him. He didn’t really like to think about the future. But as he moved through his education here, he knew what came next on the circuit; this was the last of his three years in the general officer’s track in the space explorer program. To graduate, he’d be assigned a year’s term elsewhere involving more practical aspects of his field. Typically those assignments were chosen based on a combination of availability, the student’s strengths and their interests, but Keith wasn’t stupid enough to believe his opinions would count for a thing. He’d be placed wherever his parents saw fit, and he’d _better _excel there.

“That’s— that’s good to hear, Sir.”

A small smile was earned in return. Keith struggled to look directly at his father, but he knew he ought to, and so he saw those traces of age again; crow’s feet, greying hair, not quite the inhumanly perfect soldier that he was familiar with looking up to. He wondered if Father was happy with his life and his choices, and how much of that life was _his _choice at all. But that sort of thing he’d never dare ask. He didn’t really_need _to ask.

“Your mother asked me to check your fitness records, and it seems you’re training remarkably well. I’m glad to see it.” Keith nodded, and felt a private bit of amusement that his parents couldn’t possibly know; that he and Lance had been doing a lot of training together in lieu of proper dates.

“I know how important it is to be in peak shape, Sir.”

“Indeed.” As they reentered the fray of the part of the Academy where students would actually be present, his father gave a disapproving glance around. “I know what you told me about that… those classmates you’re spending time with. Just remember that they aren’t to be your friends.”

It almost sounded absurd, but Keith knew well enough that his father meant it; unless it was someone picked and appraised to be a good enough influence, he wasn’t meant to see his fellow students as anything more than their potential to be used.

But, like his father had said- the old order of things at the Academy had degraded, something Keith was incredibly grateful for. Those blind spots and the lack of supervision in certain areas meant that his secrets could remain well-kept.

* * *

Of course, Sven had to take every possible chance to rile him up— Lance kept trying to tell himself not to fall for it, but he was far too skilled at getting him angry. Right now, Lance wanted to walk up to him and knock that annoyingly knowing smile off his stupid face.

“Well, is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

Lance scowled, feeling blood rush to his cheeks despite his best efforts to at least _look _unaffected. “Yeah; to fuck off and mind your own business.”

Keith elbowed him. “Don’t be a jerk, Lance.”

He’d been about to snap back, but after meeting eyes with Keith he thought better of it, not feeling quite as prepared to raise hell anymore. After all, Keith giving him those sorts of looks now more than made up for dealing with Sven’s teasing.

Of course, Sven didn’t give up that easily. He leaned back in his seat, rolling his eyes theatrically at the pair of them. “I take it you two worked things out last night?”

Lance narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. “Like I said. None of your business.”

“Hey, I’m happy for you guys,” Hunk offered diplomatically. But even _he _had a glint of mischief in his eye; that _told-you-so _smile that Lance figured he deserved for all the trouble he’d put him through before. “I mean… took you long _enough_, but y’got there in the end.”

Still intent on pretending he could shift focus back towards group-study from the hot topic of the hour, Keith sat down rigidly and hid his face behind the contents of his notebook, trying to disguise the flustered state that nonetheless showed in his voice. “It didn’t take me _that _long,” he mumbled.

“Pff… only about a year.”

“Shut up, Sven!” Lance felt a little vindicated that Sven had managed to get on Keith’s nerves, too.

“I’m just _saying, _I’m glad you _finally _got around to it instead of all that sulking you’ve been doing…”

With an embarrassed squeak, Keith finally gave in and pelted his writing utensils at Sven, all of which he effortlessly dodged.

“You know…” The glint of light on Pidge’s glasses informed Lance that he was only intending to add fuel to the fire. “_I'm _glad that I won’t have to deal with listening to Lance whining n' pining over you all the time, Keith.” He grinned impishly at Lance— he was enjoying this _way _too much, the fucking sadistic little pipsqueak.

“You-“ Lance sputtered indignantly, lunging at Pidge as he cackled and hid behind Hunk, knowingly becoming near-impervious to retaliation. “You little shit!“

* * *

When they finally got a moment to speak privately in their dorm room, Keith had a thousand questions for Sven, too many things that didn’t add up. He was used to Sven being something of a puzzle or a paradox, but…

He really _didn’t _seem to be taking things poorly, or having much of a reaction at all, as hard as Keith searched his expression for something meaningful. Then again, Sven never _had _actually volunteered any information about his feelings; Keith had only surmised from what he could assume.

“So…” He began with a cough, only pulling a fraction of Sven’s attention from whatever book he was reading. “You were, uh, right. About Lance and everything."

“Obviously.” Not so much as a note of anything negative, or much emotion at all besides perhaps friendly amusement. “And I’m glad it worked out; you’re both so damn awkward, it’s pretty entertaining to watch.”

Keith looked down and nearly regretted starting this conversation, realizing he was going to have to resort to more pointed questions to get any meaningful answer out of Sven— but he had to _know, _damn it. “Are you sure you’re not… well, are you mad at me or jealous or anything? I thought-“

Sven interrupted him with a laugh, more genuine than sarcastic, something that was rather rare for him.

“Come on, Keith, I only said those things to spur you to _do _something. Lance and I aren’t like that, we never were going to be.” He _did _look pretty smug, perched on one arm and apparently pleased with himself.“But you bought into it, right? So it worked.”

“…Really?”

All Sven offered in response was a catlike smile, before returning to his evening reading.

Keith didn’t know whether it was true, what Sven was telling him, but it sure _seemed _like he was being honest. He always had enjoyed messing with him a little, and his ways of solving problems had a certain irreverence for convention and polite behaviour.

Finally, he accepted that this was as much as he was going to get to ever know, given how Sven liked to keep his thoughts and feelings as ambiguous as possible. “Well…thanks, I think.”

A genial hum between the turning of pages. “Anytime, Kogane.”

* * *

The vast, empty expanse of rock and sand sometimes felt bleak to Keith, but not here and now, having managed to sneak away unnoticed onto the roof early enough to catch the fierceness of the sun finally dip behind the horizon, leaving gentler colours in its wake.

“Kinda cliché, isn’t it?” Lance grinned. “Sitting up here on the roof, watching the sunset. Like we’re in a cheap romantic movie.”

“Why cheap?” Keith huffed. “I think it’s nice up here.”

“But it’s _free. _You never take me anywhere nice, cheapskate.” Lance mockingly pouted.

“That’s not exactly _possible, _Lance.”

“I know; I know. Just teasing.” To emphasize his point, Lance gave a quick, darting kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth, without giving up his impish grin.

Lance’s happiness at getting a momentary rise out of him; his mischievous joy was contagious. “Would that I could, though.”

“Well, I’ll hold you to it once we graduate,” Lance said lightly, half-absorbed in playing with Keith’s hair. “Take us somewhere interesting.”

Keith sighed, but looked back at Lance fondly. “You have any ideas?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” Lance hummed, a daydreamer’s soft smile settling onto his face. “I think you know me better than I know me, anyways.”

Those perfectly blunt, unmistakably honest confessions he’d make- words Keith couldn’t help but cling onto, desperate to etch them into his permanent memories.

“Really?”

“Yeah."

Lance rested his weight on Keith’s side, his head on his shoulder, a hand holding onto the arm that Keith had wrapped around him. He hummed some suggestion of a melody, a proclamation that didn’t need to be put into words. In the silent rhythm of their closeness lay a message understood without speech, without even a sound.

Something glacial in enormity melted inside Keith’s chest, releasing a tension he didn’t know it was possible to live without. He breathed easier than he had in his whole life, leaning into the radiant warmth on his right side and closing his eyes, shoulders relaxed and posture uncontrolled. The backdrop of his eyelids glowed red in the sunlight, his body feeling like a tidal wave of light had washed over him and washed away whatever veneer he’d held onto. With Lance he could be _weird and flawed and emotional _and he’d hold none of it, none of it against him.

How long could this possibly last? Not forever. That was too much divine intervention for anyone to ask for. But maybe just for a while, until summer, a few years. How much could he hope for, really?

_We can still stay friends, right?_

That painful reality always sat at the back of his head, bleeding into every good moment he got. This kind of life- one guided by his own dreams and desires- just wasn’t an option. The day would come when he’d have to separate himself from Lance, go up the echelon of the GA ranks, be introduced to a suitable woman by his parents, and shine alone and golden atop that miserable peak.

_You won’t leave me _completely, _right?_

_For now _was the most that he could hope for, as good as it got. But that he’d gotten it at all was still-

Wasn’t there a saying like that? He recalled it vaguely from some distant story, maybe something he’d heard on TV. _ ‘Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all’._

But was that really true? He felt Lance shift in his arms with the slightest hum of comfortable exhaustion, and his own body relax.

_I can’t go back to living how I did before I met you._

Though everything was far from _lost _in this moment, Keith couldn’t help but think of the dark shadows that his preconceived future cast over them. Maybe it was too early to make the judgement, but based on everything Keith knew from his life thus far, the saying was probably true. When he lost this love- and he _would _lose it, there was no deluding himself about it- he’d still be grateful for having felt this warmth and to have held on for however long he could, to emotions he otherwise never would have realized were possible to have at all.

_I couldn’t stand to lose you._

Lance’s head shifted and his hands groped to steady himself unconsciously as he seemed to doze off in the sunlit corner, unaware of what grey clouds Keith was beckoning towards them with his troubled thoughts. He _knew, _though; Keith had told him as much, an apology as much as a warning that it wasn’t Lance’s fault, it _wouldn’t be _Lance’s fault. It’s just the predestined world that Keith was heading into, and- it was better if they broke it off into what they could pretend had always been just an adventurous friendship, at that point, for _him _too. Lance’s fire would be extinguished within a moment of that suffocating, airless future that lay in front of Keith. Lance should _never _have to stop burning bright, and Keith would never let that happen; certainly not for a lost cause like himself.

_But I’ll still need you by my side._


	14. Date

The new semester settled upon the school feeling a little lighter than those before, not least because Keith had something he never thought he would this time. Another pleasant surprise came with his new class schedule, too.

“I never knew we’d get more time off in Third Year,” Keith whispered with a grin, feeling almost as if it was something he was stealing. “I can’t believe it. It’s almost like the Garrison’s letting up on us.”

Nodding cheerily, Hunk appraised his class schedule for the new school year with apparent satisfaction. “I can’t either. A whole day off a week more than before, that’s—“

“Nearly what normal people get,” Sven interrupted, resting an elbow on one each of Keith and Hunk’s shoulders. “A whole Sunday, _and _Saturday afternoon? My goodness, aren’t we lucky."

Keith elected to ignore the sarcasm dripping from Sven’s voice, determined to be _happy _about this, damn it— not like there were many other options. “Well, _I’m _gonna be grateful for whatever I get.”

“Even if it’s still just three quarters of a weekend?”

Sticking his elbow into Sven’s side produced a satisfying yelp of surprise. “Quit being a whiny dipshit for five minutes, can you?”

“Hmmph.” Sven pouted, making a show of rubbing his hand on the site of Keith’s jab. “I’m just not going to give this school credit where it isn’t due.”

Looking over his schedule a second time, Pidge frowned. “Well, I’m pretty sure our classes go later into the day this year, too, so the overall amount of hours doesn’t really change.” He pulled Hunk down to his eye level to point out to him something on the page. “See, our electric practical just goes from five to nine on Thursday now, instead of being on Sunday morning.”

“Huh.” Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Don’t the teachers wanna go home by then?”

“I doubt anyone working here has much of a life outside— torturing cadets is just too much fun for them."

“You just _like _complaining, don’t you, Sven?”

“Perhaps.”

Lance was remaining oddly, uncharacteristically quiet throughout their banter; Keith wasn’t going to make a big deal of it in front of everyone, but he’d have to ask later on if something was wrong. He gave him a careful, brief brush of the arm, and got a gentle nudge back that suggested he was preoccupied with something.

“Well—“ Hunk spoke out quietly, always seeming sort of timid when he wanted to get a word in; it was surprising to a lot of people, but Keith had gotten used to it and took care to pay attention. “I was thinkin’, if we’ve got that amount of time, we could go off-property n’ actually _do _stuff, ‘sides just what’s in town.”

Pidge perked up excitedly, for a brief moment looking like a normal eleven-year-old in his curious expression. “What sort of stuff?”

“There’s a state fair comin’ up next weekend, and it’s not a long trip by skyshuttle. I thought we could check it out, it’d probably be fun.”

Keith grinned, allowing a moment of genuine joy in spite of himself. He’d have to tell Lance— going to a fair with him would make a pretty good date. A way better example of life on Earth than the Academy was, too. When he met Lance’s eyes, he seemed happy about the idea, but… a little reserved.

“That sounds like it could be fun,” Lance spoke carefully, trying his damndest to sound nonchalant, not to give away whatever it was that was bothering him. “Hey, I think I forgot to do some of my readings for this afternoon. I’ll see you guys later.”

Keith followed Lance in his strangely abrupt exit, but not before exchanging looks with his friends confirming that _yeah, something is up. _Hopefully Lance would be willing to tell _him _about whatever it was, at least once they had some privacy.

* * *

“It’s nothing serious,” Lance mumbled as he leaned into his folded arms defensively. “I don’t want you to get all worked up about it.”

Keith frowned, but said nothing, his lack of an acceptant reply enough to jostle Lance into frustrated admission.

“I’m just… damn it! I don’t know how to _say _this without sounding…” He made an aggravated huff before falling onto the bed on his back, blowing his hair out of his face. “…Pathetic. It’s stupid and childish and you don’t _want _to hear about it.”

Keith sat down next to him cautiously, still not entirely sure if he was welcome. “It’s okay, Lance. You know… you know I won’t judge you for it.”

He got a look from Lance that was somewhere between annoyance and vulnerability.

“I _know _you won’t. But that’s the thing about you, Keith. You’re—“ He paused, bit his lip. Keith didn’t interrupt.

“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.”

He leaned slowly onto Keith’s side, put a hand underneath his. Keith felt his heart leap, this level of casual intimacy seemingly impossible for him to acclimatize to.

“Last night I had this… nightmare, and— it was one of those ones,” He began, his voice soft and a little fragile, like he could just barely stand to reveal these words— even just to Keith. But Keith knew this would never, ever be an easy topic for him, and he’d never press for any information that Lance wouldn’t give of his own free volition. “But you were there, too. You died in front of me and I didn’t do anything and— it’s just a fucking _dream, _I _know _that! But I still can’t stop thinking about it.”

For a moment, Keith didn’t reply verbally— just let Lance get a little bit closer to him. He tightened his grip on Lance’s hand, and took hold of his other, reorienting them into eye contact.

“Well, I’m right here. And I feel pretty alive.” He offered a smile, and hoped it didn’t seem dismissive or downright out-of-place, these things were always way too hard for him to calculate. “You can check my pulse, if you don’t believe me.”

Lance looked down, still seeming disquieted even as he tried to act unbothered. “Hmm.”

There was still more he wasn’t quite able to say, but Keith didn’t know how to get him to spit it out without pushing too hard and making him shut down completely. He decided that the best approach was probably just to be patient, to be present without any demands and offer his attention to Lance without expectation. After a few moments of weighted silence, Lance spoke again.

“It just felt too… possible.”

Keith caught his eyes again, and saw something caught in the light they reflected; a shadow. 

“Possible…?”

Lance pulled away, but not quite completely— just enough to loosen Keith’s grip on him.

“Just fucking think about it, Keith! We’re _soldiers, _and… that _could _happen to you, I know that. Someday it could.”

There wasn’t a good way to counter that, and Keith knew better than to give some saccharine fake platitude or reassurance to Lance— he hated that as much as Keith did himself. He sighed and nestled his head on Lance’s shoulder, brushing his hand over with his thumb, feeling the slightest signs of tension leaving Lance through the trembling of his fingers.

“I know, Lance. It’s… not something we can do much about, but— I’ll try my best not to die if you promise to do the same.” He felt a near-silent chuckle escape Lance, and he smiled. “That good enough?”

“I guess it’ll have to be,” Lance answered quietly, but with a little more brightness in his voice. “Thanks.”

He surprised Keith with a movement from his side to perching over him, pinning him down for a grateful kiss.

“Hey— do we really _need _to go to class this afternoon…?”

“Yes, Lance.”

Another, more stingy kiss this time.

“Hmmph.”

* * *

It felt good to sit on the train next to Keith, knowing that they didn’t have to put up any illusions in the privacy of the cluster of seats next to their friends. Still, Lance wondered how far he could push it with where he placed his hands before Keith got upset…

“Not in front of everyone, Lance!” Keith whispered insistently, but not entirely without hesitation. Lance grinned at his accomplishment.

Nonetheless, he rested his head comfortably on Lance’s shoulder, idly kicking his legs a bit. It was rare to see him so at ease— so relaxed and happy. It was nice to see that he didn’t feel the need to act all stiff and formal here, considering how far off they were from GA property and everyone who kept watch over him. 

Hunk was pointing out attractions on a map he downloaded of the fairground, kiddishly excited to share it with his friends. Sometimes Lance forgot to appreciate just how good of a guy he was; he didn’t _have _to plan and arrange all this to bring a bunch of army kids on a day trip. It was almost like he was acting as the group dad, in a way. The thought made him chuckle, then take pause to realize— well, then.

This _was _his family now, wasn’t it?

It was a nice, pleasant thought, but it still felt sort of uncomfortable, a bit guilty. Not just because it made him think of how _he _alone got to live to find this new flock, of all the people he’d known who’d had so much more reason to be here instead of him— deserved to survive more than him_. _It was also because he’d never not feel like the weakest link amongst his friends. Sure, he wasn’t _physically _weak, and he could fly damn well, and he knew how to pick locks and buy smokes without ID, but… what did he have to _offer, _really?

He wasn’t especially smart, or kind, or empathic, or charming, or…

Looking at him from the side, the morning light made Keith’s profile seem to glow radiantly against the backdrop of the window, casting a soft veil of golden light over his hair. Lance had always questioned why Academy regulations allowed those stupid mullet haircuts that’d come back into fashion, but somehow it worked on Keith.And Keith was more than a legend based on the reputation of his family; he really _was _that talented, and skilled, and… that handsome. Yet he was here, holding Lance’s hand within his own, his head on Lance’s shoulder— Lance wouldn’t have blamed anyone if they resented the sheer unfairness of it, that uneven of a match. It was almost funny, in the way that Lance always seemed to find something to laugh at within himself. 

Pidge kicked him in the shin from across the booth, rudely jolting him out of his meditative self-pity.

“Ouch— what the fuck was _that _for?”

“You just looked like you needed it,” Pidge shrugged. “You were being all mopey, so I had to get your attention back _somehow.” _

Lance growled, leaning forward to snatch Pidge’s glasses in retaliation. “You just wanted an excuse to kick me, you little twerp.”

“It _was _good to stretch my legs a little,” Pidge smirked, climbing off his seat and tackling Lance half-blindly in pursuit of his glasses. Lance couldn’t help but smile a little; Pidge _had _been right, and even if his methods were a little on the wild side, he _did _keep an eye out for Lance and know more than a few things about his moody tendencies. He was grateful for the dumb distraction of a pointless scuffle, and he knew that Pidge knew it.

“Jeez, can’t y’guys sit down and relax for even an hour?” Hunk tried to corral them back into their seats, sounding like an exasperated babysitter. “You’re gonna bother everyone else on the train!”

“I’ll contain Lance if you get Pidge.” Keith sighed, seeming not entirely genuine in his frustrated grasp around his shoulders. Lance responded with his own sound of pretend-dissatisfaction, but leaned only closer in.

“It’ll take more than him alone,” Sven laughed, covertly giving a celebratory clap on the shoulder to Pidge for his excellent work in annoying him. “But perhaps Hunk and I together can hold him.”

Pidge just grinned, satisfied with his handiwork. Lance couldn’t help but give him some credit; he _was _good at what he did.

* * *

The fairground was already in high gear as the boys arrived, with enormous crowds making it difficult to navigate. Lance was mesmerized by the sheer amount of colour and light pouring out from every attraction, all competing for his attention. He kept a grip on Keith by the hem of his shirt, but suddenly felt pretty self-conscious about it, surrounded by so many other people…

“There’s a lot of couples here,” Sven observed, giving Lance a wink— to which he replied with a scowl. “I had no idea this was considered a romantic setting.”

“It smells like popcorn,” Pidge chirped excitedly. “When are we gonna get snacks?”

“There’s a whole lot of food vendors next to the ferris wheel,” Hunk offered. “You ever had cotton candy?”

“I _do _like cotton,” Pidge said eagerly. “ _And _candy…”

“It’s, uh, a little different than that… Well, I’ll get some for everyone.”

Lance dutifully followed Hunk alongside the rest of his friends in pursuit of the mysterious snack, every now and then sneaking another glance at Keith, admiring how his eyes shone with happiness far brighter than any other light there could. He was glad to get out of the Academy for a day, but even gladder to see Keith take a moment to relax, have fun for a change and not performing to the standards of the perfect cadet. Dressed in almost-casual clothing, he nearly looked like a different person; but not to Lance. He _knew _Keith, regardless of what appearance he wore or expression he painted on. He could feel when his moods were genuine, and fortunately it felt like he really _was _enjoying this whole event. Lance wondered for a moment if it’d be alright— no, well, maybe…

He took Keith’s hand, just the gentlest grasp at first— waiting for any trace of resistance or unwillingness. Keith looked at him, his eyes widened for a moment, before his expression softened into a blushing smile. He wrapped his own fingers around Lance’s, giving him an eager tug closer to his side as they walked, and Lance knew he’d been waiting for this chance, too. Somewhere that nobody knew who they were or were supposed to be, and they could act just like all those other teenagers out on dates tonight. 

It was sort of difficult to pay attention to anything else, but Keith pointed out different attractions, explaining what they were to Lance.

“—and that’s a Tilt-A-Whirl. It’s like a more primitive version of the Zero-G-Sim, but for entertainment only.”

“Huh. So people get all nauseous and dizzy for fun?”

“I think it’s not _that _fast. It’s… probably more fun.”

“Hey, Keith…” Lance lowered his voice, realizing the topic he was about to broach was one that shouldn’t be broadcast out loud to the others. “Have you ever been to anything like this before? I mean, you know stuff about it, but… would your parents have let you?”

“Nah.” Keith shook his head, but didn’t look upset about the query. “They’d never let me go to anything like this, but… I heard stories from classmates and saw them on TV sometimes. And it doesn’t really bother me, anyways; being here with you now is a million times better than any other time could’ve been.”

Lance flushed, bumping his shoulder into Keith’s affectionately. “You know, most people would be embarrassed to say something like that out loud.”

“Oh, um— is it bad?”

“No,” Lance added quickly. “It’s not, I mean, I like it, anyways. You’re just so… honest.”

Keith tilted his head, looking slightly confused, and Lance strained to find the right way to say what he meant; what damn thing it _was _that Keith did to make him feel this way. 

“Well… You say these kinds of things and mean it. I didn’t really think that was possible,” Lance finally murmured, feeling sort of defenseless all of a sudden. “Outside of fairy tales, anyways.”

Now Keith was the one left too flustered for speech.

“Ahem,” Pidge cleared his throat pointedly. “I believe Hunk is _trying _to get your attention…”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Hunk insisted. “But, uh, I got you these.”

Keith graciously accepted the puffy, cloud like pink objects on sticks as Lance eyed them warily.

“Thanks, Hunk. I don’t think _I’ve _ever had this before, either.”

“Man,” Hunk muttered, more to himself than to everyone else. “Am I the only one here who ever had any fun growing up?”

Nobody particularly wanted to volunteer a reply to that. Instead, Lance shifted his focus to Keith biting a chunk out of his cotton candy, apparently effortlessly despite how big it looked. He handed the other one to Lance, and he did the same; it melted instantaneously into a tasty sugary goop in his mouth, which was definitely not the taste or texture he’d been expecting.

“So?” Hunk asked. “What d’you guys think?”

Sven grinned. “I like it, but not as much as I think Pidge does.”

Sure enough, Pidge had rapidly devoured his, as he did with pretty much anything containing a hefty dose of sugar. “That was _awesome.”_

Hunk smiled. “Figured you’d like it.”

Lance was pleased to see Pidge having a moment to be a half-normal kid out here, not a soldier. Then again, he could say the same of Keith— _he’d _never had much of a childhood, himself.

“What do you think?” He asked, wiping away a stray smudge of pink sugar-goo from Keith’s nose.

He nodded approvingly. “It’s not as cottony as I expected. But it _is _really sweet.”

Lance deliberated for a moment whether or not to embarrass Keith a little more, before deciding to take the opportunity.

“Like you.”

Now Keith’s face looked about as bright pink as the cotton candy was.

“Lance!”

He couldn’t resist a teasing, brief kiss, the taste of sugar on both their lips melting together. Something sweet.

* * *

The roller coaster had been fun, and a good excuse to hold tightly onto Lance. They’d gone on the ferris wheel and enjoyed the expansive view that stretched over the brightly-lit fairground into the patchwork of surrounding countryside, and the mountains far in the distance, the sunlight still barely brightening the horizon in a rapidly darkening shade of violet. It might have even been romantic… if Sven hadn’t invited himself onto their cart. Lance had even agreed to try out the Tilt-A-Whirl, which they agreed _was _more fun than it looked. Finally, Lance pulled Keith towards the farmer’s exhibition; the agricultural part of the state fair, where they tried samples from a pie contest and admired the prize-winning livestock.

Lance looked particularly enamoured over a fluffy black sheep, whose wool grew way curlier than Keith had thought was possible for an animal. The wooden board tacked up above her head informed them that her name was Daisy, and she was a prize-winning merino ewe— whatever that meant.

“She’s adorable, huh?” Lance bent down to get a closer look, the animal curiously approaching to sniff her admirers. “I guess… I’ll always have a soft spot for ‘em.”

He didn’t need to say more than that, and Keith wasn’t going to ask him to. But he wanted to give Lance something nice to think about, to distract him a little.

“I wonder if I could buy her for you.”

“Yeah, and where would we keep her?” Lance snorted. “In my closet? Pidge would destroy me, you know.”

“We could find a nice pasture out by the mountains,” Keith mused, feeling himself lighten in spirit at his own ridiculous, fanciful ideas. “Start a farm. Get a whole herd to keep her company.”

“You don’t even know a thing about taking care of animals,” Lance protested, but nonetheless he was smiling a little wider than before. “How do you expect to become a shepherd, exactly?”

“You could teach me.”

“Guess so.” Lance butted his head against Keith gently, and they shared a quiet moment of laughter, at these beautiful but impossible dreams, that were still so nice to think about…

Something in his chest ached familiarly, a painful weight that he knew there wasn’t anything he could do about.

But there were things that he _could _do. Keith pulled Lance up to his feet and pressed their foreheads together, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

“C’mon, Keith— not in front of Daisy.” Lance was trying to sound irritated, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. 

“Alright, alright.” Keith smiled honestly, a comforting warmth he got from Lance that existed at odds with the distant, painful dread that tugged at him to return to reality. “Let’s head back out to the games booths. There’s something I wanna do."

* * *

Keith knew he didn’t stand much of a chance against this game, being as poor of a shot as he was, but he _had _to win Lance a prize. He’d already put far too many tries into the ring toss to give up now, anyways.

Sven was watching him bemusedly, which was a helpful motivation.

“Need any assistance, Keith?”

He didn’t look away from the game, not even to make a face at Sven.

“Not on your life.”

He shrugged, raising an eyebrow as Keith paid for yet another three tosses. “If you say so.”

Lance had already managed to win himself an inflatable duck pool toy at the duck-hunt booth; he’d taken no time at all to get the biggest prize, which wasn’t too shocking considering his talent for marksmanship. Keith knew he wouldn’t be able to get anything large and impressive, but he had his eyes on one of the smaller prizes, that somehow reminded him of Lance.

He held onto that image in his mind, and gave it another go—

_Come on, I’ve got to get this for him— I have to give him something special tonight._

He opened his eyes again. Flashing lights and a ringing sound were his cue that he’d finally gotten the mark.

* * *

Keith approached Lance looking strangely hesitant, unlike how forward he’d been the rest of the night. Lance turned towards him away from the rows of games and contests, and as he looked away from their lights he realized how dark it had gotten.

“What's up?” He noticed that Keith was hiding something in-between his hands. “What’re you hiding- did you win something just now? I wanna see.”

“It’s nothing big and impressive,” Keith mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes. “But— well, I saw it and I had to win it for you, no matter how bad I was at the ring toss game. It just seemed like it was right for you.”

“You won something for me…?” Lance hoped he wasn’t too obviously blushing in these light levels. “That’s— that’s really nice of you.”

“Well, I figured… since you gave me that wood carving you made, I’ve been trying to figure out what to give you, something that reminded me of you. I just… hope you like it, but it’s okay if you don’t.”

Lance took Keith’s hands and opened them to see what they encased— a small, sort of goofy-looking red cat toy. It was utterly, unbearably endearing to him already; the type of object you didn’t realize that you needed in your life until you saw it.

“It’s cute,” he whispered, though he figured his expression must be revealing how much of an understatement _that _was. “How many tries did it take you to win this thing?”

Keith nervously touched the back of his neck, an interesting tic of his that Lance had noticed. “Twenty-three. Well, I mean, I stopped _counting _there, anyways.”

“Just how much money did you put _into—“_

“I’m not gonna say.”

Lance grinned and gave him a hug, enjoying the feeling of Keith relaxing in his arms. “Thank you. It _is _just right for me— I love it.”

Keith hummed happily, and Lance started to feel like he might melt if they stayed in this moment for too long. After he let go, he put the cat into his bag, already feeling incredibly attached to it. He hadn’t had a possession that was so meaningful in… a _long _time. He’d be sure to take care of it and keep it safe, no matter what.

* * *

Keith watched the sky hopefully; Hunk told him there’d be fireworks once it got dark enough, so he figured that they’d start up soon. It had been so long since he’d last seen fireworks… and that had been at more of a distance. It’d be a whole new experience, actually watching them from up close like this. He and Lance were standing at the very back of the crowd, where it was a little more private. 

More than anything else, Keith hoped it would be impressive to Lance; in all honesty, he was more excited to see Lance enjoy the show than to watch it himself. Lance wasn’t sure of what ‘fireworks’ were, or where he was supposed to look, so his eyes remained on the ground. 

Finally, it sounded like it was beginning—

But something felt wrong.

Lance exclaimed something in words that Keith couldn’t understand, then gave him an urgent, desperate tug by the arm, his voice frantic. “We— we need to get _away_—“

His eyes were suddenly wide, terrified, watching the explosions in the sky with familiar horror. He wasn’t watching _this _sky, not here and _now_, not really.

Oh, God. He’d fucked up, hadn’t he?

“Lance, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He grabbed onto Lance and felt a violent trembling in his limbs, how fast his heart was beating. He’d seen Lance panicking similarly to this before; lost in the landscape of a traumatic memory, not entirely able to remain connected to the time and place he was in. Keith would do whatever it took to pull him back— Anything, anything, _anything_. 

“Everything is fine, you’re safe, we’re _safe_—“ he spoke gently but urgently, desperately trying to crush his own anxiety rising in response to Lance, to be calm and help ground him and not just make things worse. “That’s the sound from the fireworks— I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I should’ve known this would happen. I... should have known.” 

He was almost getting choked up himself now, but there wasn’t any room for that; he needed to focus on Lance. He felt horribly guilty for not thinking of this possibility, not warning him, not even knowing just what to do _now _besides try to hold him steady.

“I— I’m— sorry,” Lance’s voice was rough, cracked with involuntary tremors and the tears Keith could feel dampening his shoulder. “I s-should be able t-to control t-this.” 

His stomach sank a bit more in shame, and Keith gripped Lance even tighter. “No— it’s not your fault, it’s okay. We can go somewhere that you won’t be able to hear it.”

“I wanted to see them, damn it!” Lance hissed violently, but he couldn’t hide the shaky undercurrent. “I hate this, I hate how I can’t _control _it, whenever it happens I just—“ He dug his fingers into the fabric of Keith’s shirt a little harder. “I— I don’t want to go yet. I want…” 

He took a deep breath, and a moment to gather up more words before speaking again. 

“Just— hold onto me and I’ll look?” His voice had a note of hopefulness now that it hadn’t before, and Keith felt that he seemed to be breathing at nearly a normal rate now, his heartbeat not so frenetic and panicked. “I… still want to see it, Keith. I do.”

Keith was still concerned, but… he wasn’t going to tell Lance what to do. He knew his own body best. “You sure?”

He felt a nod, then lightness as Lance lifted his head. Keith kept his arms wrapped firmly around him, pulled their bodies as close as they’d fit together, and watched the sky with him.

In spite of everything, the glistening of his eyes, the way his shoulders shook— he still smiled at it, and Keith felt an enormous weight lift off of him, something light and warm and gentle settling in its place.

“You were right,” he whispered. “They’re beautiful.”

Lance kept a firm grip on Keith, sinking into his embrace. It meant everything, everything to Keith— that he could make Lance feel that safe, stable, _okay_. That he could, for all his failures and shortcomings, be good enough for him in at least that way.

The dazzling colours scattering across the sky, sending vibrant sparks that fizzled like shooting stars, was always something akin to magic to him. He felt like a child watching them, the sort of child he never really _was, _if only for a few moments.

And the way that, even as they made those loud whines and booming thuds, Lance still rested comfortably in his arms as long as he gave him a gentle squeeze every now and then… so that he could see something good in those explosions in the sky, right here and right now.

It _was _beautiful.


	15. Stories

These supply closets were cramped and dark and always smelled like floor wax, but they were the most convenient reprieve that Keith and Lance had for a real conversation between classes; or, something entirely different. 

Keith was grateful for even a short reprieve from the outside world’s rules and regulations. But something was keeping a part of his mind on the other side of the door, and Lance had noticed.

“What’s keeping you, Keith?”

Even in the darkness, his eyes had some kind of glow to them; dark pupils set against them like eclipses.

“Nothing is,” Keith insisted, a little louder than necessary. “I don’t know why you’d think…”

“Keith.”

He sighed. There really _wasn’t _any point in bullshitting Lance.

“I guess it’s just that… I’m still sort of nervous we’ll get caught.” 

Lance chuckled. “Don’t be such a goody two-shoes, Kogane. We’ll be fine.” He had a way of distracting Keith from his line of thought, very precisely and effectively. “I’m good at sneaking around, remember?”

“That’s… true.” Keith acquiesced, even though he wasn’t _totally _convinced. Mainly, he gave in because he was more interested in a different topic; discovering the unspoken words on Lance’s lips.

Lance leaned in, offering a silent question, and Keith answered.

His stomach wouldn’t stop turning- he couldn’t acclimatize to this just yet, having permission to act on his desires, and to have them welcomed with an enthusiastic return. Lance worked past all the resistance like fire through ice, making Keith feel it was alright to kiss a _little _deeper—with fingers roving a _little _further into previously uncharted territory— to take just a little more. Lance _was _permission, freedom in a human form.

Keith tried to stifle a sound when Lance bit his lip; not out of pain.

_Christ— I really _am_ losing all control here. _The thought frightened him out of his distracted state.

“Quiet,” Lance cautioned halfheartedly, seeming more pleased with every noise he managed to get out of Keith than anything. Keith tried to catch his breath as quietly as possible, sneaking a glance at the door, ears suddenly hypersensitive for the sound of footsteps. Lance pulled him back in by the neck. “—Just saying. We’re fine, for now.”

“Maybe we should leave anyways,” Keith muttered, still not stopping himself from getting pulled back. “Just to be safe.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “We have fifteen more minutes ’til class. I want to use them.”

It was hard to argue against him, harder still when Lance was looking at him like that. His hair was a mess, spread out around his head on the corrugated metal floor, his legs sneakily hooking around Keith and pulling him back down. If the cold, hard surface they’d managed to find themselves on bothered him, he didn’t show it.

Keith _wanted_ to give in again, tried to swallow down his anxiety about the door about the _people _behind it, about everything else weighing on him and _them _and—

A dissatisfied hum interrupted his worrying, a demanding hand tugging at his collar. Lance was making an effort into trying to keep Keith’s eyes _on him _and not the source of every creak and echo. He let himself be pulled in, cautiously moving his hands back to where they were before.

“You’re cute when you’re all freaked out, y’know.” Lance murmured with a lopsided hint of a grin. His hands gripped Keith’s sides, pulling him closer again. Keith came back into focus once more, and decided that fifteen more minutes were worth it.

* * *

When they stepped out— Keith careful to check if anyone was looking— it was a mad dash to get to the next class on time. Keith couldn’t remember having shown up late ever _before, _and he wasn’t about to start now. He fiddled with his collar anxiously, hoping it was high enough to conceal any evidence that Lance might’ve left on his neck, unable to stop feeling like every set of eyes in the room was on him and was ready to call out his crimes. He barely absorbed a word of the lecture, took uncharacteristically few notes, watched the clock out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help but feel on edge the entire time, eager to get out of class as soon as possible and hide in his room before he gave something away. 

Lance was sitting in a row in front of him. His hair was still mussed up- Keith resisted the urge to get out of his seat and brush it back. It was hard not to stare at him all class long, but… that fear of some omnipresent hypothetical gossip catching on and passing that information around kept him in line.

And then came the crashing wave of guilt. He shouldn’t be treating Lance like this; he _knew _Lance deserved way more than that, way more than he was able to give. He liked to sometimes humour the idea, a certain daydream whenever class got a little slow— that someday he’d throw out each of the million reasons this couldn’t work out, kiss Lance right in front of everyone, completely forsake the consequences.

But that’d require him to become someone very different from who he was, or at least, from who he’d been molded into over the years. He wasn’t entirely sure if there even _was _the potential to be someone like that within him, or if there had ever been; it’s not like there’d ever been a time when he wasn’t getting pushed into somebody else’s shape. He noted the bluish silhouette cast over his desk from the fluorescent beams above; maybe his shadow was the closest thing left to the original.

Some days, it felt like that was all he was.

* * *

This was definitely a new experience for Lance. Being called into a teacher’s office... and _not _because he’d started trouble.

“I wanted to commend you on your excellent work in the simulators this term, McClain.” the instructor looked over him pleasantly, Lance still not entirely believing that this was actually happening and not some kind of elaborate trap. “Your talents haven’t gone unnoticed; particularly how you handled the tight manoeuvres in last week’s asteroid belt evasion class.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He kept as quiet as he could get away with, not about to let his guard down yet.

“After discussing it with the coordinator, we’ve decided that you and your partner can move onto some of the more advanced simulation protocols; they’ve been discontinued in the curriculum for being excessively challenging, but perhaps you'll find them more stimulating.”

Lance couldn’t help but grin. He _did _love to fly a challenge, and the sims he and Keith had been doing _were _getting a little too easy. 

“I also wanted to note that you’ve gone your first half-semester without incident, McClain. It seems that Kogane taking you under his wing has worked wonders on your discipline.”

Lance struggled to contain a smirk. _Under his wing, huh? I guess you could say that. _

“He’s been an excellent partner, Ma’am.”

“I can see that. Well— you’re dismissed. I look forward to seeing you taking on these new simulations.”

As he exited the office, Lance felt a strange turning in his stomach, a sense of imbalance like he’d unexpectedly been put into the zero-G simulator. It was as if a whole mess of feelings had conglomerated into one, impossible to separate and single out. He was relieved not to have been chewed out for anything, proud that he’d been recognized for his piloting— but also something else, something unpleasant. Did even the faculty here just see him as Keith’s lackey, or a charity case, or a bad dog he’d muzzled…?

Lance shook his head, hoisted his bag up and stalked off back towards his next class. No, he decided. It didn’t matter what they thought of him and Keith. It didn’t matter what _anyone _thought. Didn’t bother him at all.

And even if it did… well, tough shit. It was _true, _for what it was worth. He _was _only playing nice now because he didn’t want to risk getting Keith caught up in his troublemaking. He _did _feel more loyal to Keith than any and everything else, definitely more than the fucking GA. He _was… _

Lance realized just how many things he’d readily become for Keith; not that Keith had ever asked him to. But he couldn't help it— Keith just meant that much to him.

He just had a hard time believing that he could mean that much back.

* * *

“The neptunian hydroid snapped its leftmost jaw and devoured Meathe’s head in a single bite.”

A collective sigh resounded across the game table— apart from, of course, the cruel dungeon master himself. Pidge picked Keith’s character’s piece off the board and placed it aside. “Well, that’s the end of _that.”_

Keith scowled in defeat, surprising himself with how much he cared about his Astromancy character getting offed. “I guess I shouldn’t have taken that last chance on the defence bonus, huh?”

Hunk gave a consoling shoulder-pat. “Y’get carried away in battle; happens to the best of us.” His own character Arvik had been trapped in ice for the duration of the battle, courtesy of the hydroid’s freezing-breath attack.

“Well, it’s up to you guys,” Pidge nodded at Sven and Lance, who exchanged a serious, strategic look. Keith’s frown deepened. “Know what your course of action is gonna be?”

“I’ve still got the pyrokinetic prosthetic,” Lance mused. “Sven, you cut its heads off all in one go with the battle-axe— you’d be unable to defend yourself in the next turn, but I’ll be able to finish it off before then.”

“You’re sure?” Sven looked unconvinced. “What makes you so confident that fire is going to finish off a water-elemental beast? It seems like that'd be an awful idea.”

“It’s just a robotic take on the classic mythological hydra, and we’ve seen it has the same ability to regenerate its heads from the nano particulate as long as the CPU of at least one of its heads is still operational. We’ll do it the herculean way.”

“Lance, what the hell are you even talking about?”

“Look, I’m apparently the only one who…” Lance sighed exasperatedly. “You guys’ve never heard the classic ancient Greek myth of Heracles’ labours? You know, the classical hero?”

A silent, awkward pause, until Sven coughed under his breath; “_Nerd.”_

“Fuck off, Sven; _some _of us_ like_ being culturally literate.”

Keith smiled to himself; he’d always admired how much of a bookworm Lance was, and moreover, how he reminded anyone who teased him over it that it _didn’t _equate to any meekness. It also made Keith realize just how little the Academy taught that wasn’t directly applicable to becoming better soldiers, better pilots, better… resources.

“Well,” Pidge mumbled, thumbing through the regulation bestiary to the relevant entry. “Lance is right about its weakness. It’s a tough move to pull, though; you really can’t afford to screw up once you engage.”

Lance grinned. “Our odds are fucked anyways. Let’s give it a go.”

* * *

“As the beast lies defeated, the spell on Arvik lifts, leaving a temporary agility loss of five but otherwise no injury. Amongst the remnants of the corpse, you see the well-preserved head of Meathe, regurgitated by the hydroid in its dying throes.” Pidge flipped through his notes as he described the aftermath. “You also obtain a vial of its highly toxic synthetic venom."

“Do you think I could try reattaching the head and reanimating him?” Lance mused, leaning backwards in his chair. “I’m pretty sure Jineveer’s got the scroll and the dark magic stat that allows necromancy.”

“But that’s meant for monsters only,” Hunk said. “I dunno if it's a good idea t’use it on one of _us. _If necromancy goes wrong, you could just end up with a vessel for a dark spirit._”_

Pidge grinned, with a certain glint caught on his glasses. “Well, wanna risk it anyways?”

Lance nodded, and Keith gave him a grateful smile. Sure, he could’ve just made a new character, but he _had _gotten attached to Meathe.

“One last thing,” Sven interrupted. “Let me run a perception check on the corpse.”

* * *

Sven had pulled his chair up to Keith’s desk, the two of them launching a cooperative offensive on the large stack of midterm prep documents. It wasn’t particularly exciting; Keith had already _done _most of this review, but nonetheless, it didn’t hurt to re-do these sets, and hold Sven accountable so he wouldn’t just procrastinate again. Still, their conversation meandered away from the work at hand. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Sven began, something of a smile emerging that Keith had learned to recognize as a warning sign. “About you and Lance.”

Keith shrugged, fully aware that he’d likely regret letting Sven get on this conversational route, but not entirely caring. “Shoot.”

“Well.” Sven leaned forward, his rather deliberate posturing making Keith nervous. “Have you two fucked yet?”

Keith choked on nothing.

“Wh— !” 

Sven cocked his head to the side like a curious bird. “So that’s a no?”

“No— I mean, _yes— _yes, it’s a no, damn it!” Keith stuttered furiously, feeling the blood rushing into his cheeks. Thank _God _Lance wasn’t here to hear this. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hit Sven, or run away, or ask him whether he was _supposed to have by now— _damn it, how was he supposed to figure something like _that _out? “Not that it’s any of _your _fucking business!”

“Hey— am I, uh, interrupting something?”

And, of course, Keith’s luck being what it was— who _else _would step in without knocking right now?

Sven casually picked his book bag up and made for the door. “Not at all, I was just heading to the library. The room’s all yours, Keith.”

Unable to spit out a response that wouldn’t sound like an angry, garbled sputter of indignation, Keith only glared silently.

As the door shut, Lance gave Keith a concerned look. “You look… huh. What’d Sven say get you _this _worked up?”

“His regular bullshit,” Keith muttered, desperate to change the topic. “Don’t ask.”

It was something that Keith always appreciated, how Lance knew when to drop something and leave it alone. “Want me to beat him up a little?”

“Nah.” Keith began to relax, feeling his heart rate slowly returning to normal. “But thanks for the offer.”

Lance reclined against the wall, propped up with a pillow and carelessly kicking the sheets. He smiled softly, a little absently, like he was daydreaming about something pleasant. It made Keith glad to see Lance so relaxed, but also a little nervous, selfishly; what was he thinking about, or where, or who else? He knew it was a stupid thing to worry about, but…

“D’you ever think about who else you could’ve been?” He mused aloud, still with that calmness and distance in his gaze. “I mean, if you’d been born in a different time and place.”

Keith shrugged. “All the time, I guess.” He felt a barb of uncomfortable honesty rising up his throat, unwilling to be choked back down. “I like thinking about realities where things could be… easier, for us. I mean, for both for us.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but his expression didn’t seem to grow any less content, at least. “Hmm.” 

Now Keith wondered if he’d said something bad, made Lance feel overburdened or uncomfortable or…

He was pulled gently but firmly down, Lance resting him on his bent legs not unlike a book or tablet. Was looking at him directly, now; no distance through some could’ve-been dreamland separating them now.

“I need to confess,” he murmured, messing with Keith’s hair rather than his own as he mused. “Ever since we started playing Astromancy together, I’ve been thinking back to these… stories, fairytales and legends. Sometimes I like to imagine us living in a world like that.”

“With magic?” Keith asked dumbly, a little lost by Lance’s train of thought. “Those sorts of stories?”

“Yeah.” Lance grinned, and the broad smile made the freckles on his nose shift slightly as it crinkled. “I just figured you’d be… a legendary leader. A king, or something like that. And I’d be a knight in your court.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“I guess it’s because you remind me of... I think of you as being kind of like King Arthur.”

Keith’s silence must’ve tipped Lance off to his ignorance.

“You _do_ know that story, right? I mean, you’re_ from _Earth—“

“I know who he is,” Keith asserted quickly, “I mean, kind of. I’m just surprised_ you _know it.”

“Well, don’t you ever wonder where I got my name?”

Keith tilted his head back, hoping it’d dislodge a coherent reply. He didn’t want to say aloud that he’d sort of assumed that Lance had always been Lance, up until now when he was forced to confront how little sense that assumption made— he figured that Lance knew anyways.

“When I was… new, here, I didn’t want to talk to anyone in the unit too much. So, I read a lot of the books that they had there for us. It took me a while to understand the language, at least without a translator lens, but I picked it up faster than anyone expected— I guess I didn’t see much else worth doing there.” 

He laughed and the sound was bittersweet; not entirely happy, but not entirely unhappy either.

“My favourite was the one about the legends of King Arthur. I loved all of the stories about the Knights of the Round Table, and the whole idea of being chivalrous and everything. So I wanted my name to be Lancelot, so I could try to live up to that.” Another chuckle, a little bit brighter than before. “They told me I’d need to modernize it just a little, though.”

Keith shifted a little, feeling anxious the way he always found he did when Lance told him about his past; even though he _knew_ that Lance wouldn’t tell him if he didn’t _really_ want to, it still made him feel like he was holding something precious and fragile. 

_What was wrong with your old name?_ He didn’t want to say it aloud; even he understood not to ask that sort of thing by now. Practice makes okay-at-not-pushing-too-far. But Lance must’ve read his face, because he answered anyways.

“I wanted an Earth name, the kind that’d make sure nobody ever guessed I was from anywhere but here. Definitely not something in _Drule,” _He spat that last word venomously, seemingly pausing to swallow down its bitter taste before continuing. “Nobody needs to know I hailed from an enemy-controlled colony, of all places. I wanted to start over, from nothing, from nowhere. I didn’t want that old name anymore.”

“How’d you pick your last name, then?”

“Got it from someone who took care of me, for a while.” The way that Lance’s eyes darted away told Keith that there was more to this story that he didn’t feel like giving away— at least, not right now. 

“Well… you picked a nice one,” Keith ventured, unsure of his choice of words. “I mean, it’s very Earth-ish, I think. I wouldn’t have guessed you weren’t from here if nobody told me.”

That seemed to work— Lance’s expression brightened. He traced a finger down the side of Keith’s face, like he was painting on some invisible message. “I still have that book— they let me keep it when I left for this program. I know it’s pretty childish, to try to live up to a fairytale knight—“

“You do, though,” Keith interrupted, pulling Lance’s hand into his own. “I think so, anyways. You’re brave and kind and definitely good at fighting…”

Lance laughed, and there wasn’t any shadow in it whatsoever this time; just the brightness of its gentle rhythm, the sound of sunlight. “Shut up.”

“It’s true,” Keith ventured, feeling that laughter creep into his own chest and make him feel a bit lighter. “You’re _my_ knight in shining armour, Lance.”

He could’ve believed there _was_ magic in their world just then; in moments like these, in that smile. It succeeded in getting him off-guard, anyways; within a moment’s flurry Lance had begun and won a wrestling match, though the flustered red of his cheeks gave away to Keith that his own attack had worked, too.

“You never quit it with the sappy shit, do you?”

Keith only smiled in response, and Lance fell to his side— with one arm draped over him, just to make it clear who’d pinned down who a moment ago— with a sigh of pretend-exhaustion.

“Thanks.”

A moment of appreciative silence between them, comfortable and warm and perhaps not so far off from a fairy-tale enchantment. 

Lance was tugging on him, just a little, bringing him back into focus.

“Keith, there’s something I want to tell you.” His eyes as dark as they ever got in the poorly lit room, beguiling and totally commanding, but still a warm kind of brown.

He listened, his silence an invisible palm extended, to receive a single word— he didn’t entirely understand _why_ he’d been given it, besides just to show that he alone could be trusted to hold this, keep this. Precious, fragile. Dangerous. 

And Keith whispered it so gently that barely any sound escaped his lips, tasted it, felt grateful for it but also frightened by just what kind of trust this was— and how much was Lance hurting himself to demonstrate this?

There were too many feelings floating in the air between them, and just one word.

Until Lance spoke, again. A sharp-edged smile danced on his lips; sharp, but not unkind.

“Well, there’s your sword.” The implication was clear. His weapon in case he ever needed it; Lance putting it into his hands completely unprompted.

Keith’s voice was still paper-light, cautious, but he needed to tell Lance—

“Thank you.” 

He leaned forward just enough to press his lips to Lance’s forehead. Felt a little leap in his chest as Lance relaxed at his touch, that jagged smile rounding out to something soft and willingly, comfortably vulnerable. Realized then that he was trembling; the kind of jitters you get when you’ve been given something very, very delicate and breakable. Swallowed it down along with a secret word.

“I’ll keep it safe.”


	16. Rumours

“C’mon, Chip. Don’t be a baby.”

Pidge’s brother glared at him, then resigned himself to a serious effort at sparring. He didn’t seem to have that same semi-feral energy as Pidge did, didn’t really like mischief or surprise attacks or any of those things that the older twin inflicted on their friends. Chip was more quiet, even withdrawn, but some brotherly teasing _could _goad him into putting in an effort. He and Pidge began an intricate dance around the ring on the floor, before looking for an in to get a mark on the other.

It was the free period for their year at the gym in the northwest wing, which meant minimal supervision and hence some free rein on both the equipment and each other. A couple of students were seeing how far they could throw the dumbbells across the floor mats, and someone was scaling the wall entirely unsupported by any safety rope to retrieve her ball from the roof beams. Then again, the group here had something of a mixed reputation, so perhaps the staff just decided it wasn’t worth the headache to try and martial them in an activity like this, to better reserve their energy for actual drills and classes— even cadets needed _some _short reprieve from the rigorous structure of Academy life, if only for a couple of hours.

Hunk was having a friendly weightlifting competition with Chip’s roommate, Rocky— rumour had it that he could bend an iron bar over his knee quite effortlessly. But even if he had a tough-guy physique, he seemed pretty nice, and often hovered around Chip to make sure older kids didn’t try to give him trouble.

There was someone else Keith recognized here, too. Hunk was roommates with that Dukane guy, who Keith couldn’t help but feel some unplaceable disdain towards; Hunk said he was alright, maybe a little bit of a braggart and troublemaker, but mostly just talk— he _liked _Jeff, amazingly, but then again Hunk always gave people too much credit. He was trying to get Ginger’s attention by showing off, but she didn’t give too much, rather more interested in focusing on her push-ups.

He must’ve looked sort of tense, because he felt a familiar tap on his back. Lance looked at him with a little concern.

“You’re watching the room like a drill sarge,” he joked, but he seemed halfway serious. “It wouldn’t kill you to lighten up when you have the chance.”

“I know,” Keith muttered. “I just feel like... something’s bothering me, and I’m not totally sure what yet.”

However, Keith’s sharp ear for other people’s chatter eventually managed to pick out what was riding his nerves-- and gave him a long-awaited excuse to confront that show-off Jeff.

“Why’re you always trying to be cool by goofing off?” Ginger muttered between huffs, managing to impressively keep her form while still listening to Jeff blabber. “The bad-boy act just isn’t working.”

“I’m not trying to be _bad, _just… not waste my youth on staying all straight n’ narrow, y’know?”

“You’re still mad because I said I thought McClain seemed cool, aren’t you?”

She _had _said that, Keith remembered. He’d made a face unintentionally when she’d complimented Lance after a flight sim class, and asked him for pointers; Lance had mocked him later on for getting jealous so easily. 

“Maybe he seems cool if you’re into scary delinquent offworlders,” Jeff shrugged, glaring at her.

Ginger managed to kick Jeff in the shin with barely any loss of motion from her exercises. “You remember that _I’m _an offworlder too, right?”

“That’s different!” Jeff sputtered, recoiling his injured leg and at _least _having the decency to sound a little embarrassed. “You’re not like _him.”_

“You’re just being unfair to McClain because he shows you up in the flight sims, jackass.”

“I don’t care if he’s a good pilot— can’t be _that _good to justify him hovering around the school like a freakin’ serial killer. He gives me the creeps— And not just me, either!”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. What the hell did he think he was saying? Lance must’ve heard it too, but he just rolled his eyes when Keith glanced at him. Maybe he was just that acceptant of it by now, but Keith was going to give Jeff an idea of what he thought of those comments of his.

Walking up to him, he faced Jeff dangerously closely, saw him look confused that _he _was the one confronting him.

“I don’t like the way you’re talking about Lance,” he hissed venomously, feeling his posture stiffen. “You _won’t _insult him like that.”

“Hmmph.” Jeff shrugged, seeming a little like he was trying to escalate Keith’s anger more than anything. “I’m just saying what everyone thinks.”

“Jeff,” Ginger was standing up now, arms crossed aggravatedly and voice carrying a warning. “Cut it out.”

“It’s not _my _fault Kogane’s so defensive of his weirdo boyfriend…“

Keith’s eyes flared with a rare unrestrained anger, and did what every bone in his body knew better than to, knew of the _consequences—_

“…And Drule-ugly, too. You sure know how to pick ‘em, Kogane—”

It wasn’t the time or place to get away with this, but Keith didn’t care.

He curled up his fist and threw it squarely at Jeff’s nose.

* * *

“You don’t mean to say _you _started this, Kogane?”

Really, the superintendent looked more stunned, perhaps awed, than angry.

Before Keith’s adrenaline levels could drop enough for the panic of what he’d just done to set in, Jeff surprised him.

“It was me who started it, Sir. Not Kogane— I’d roped him into it.”

Wait, what? Well, in Keith’s eyes, he _had _invited the fight by insulting Lance, but… Jeff didn’t need to be taking the blame here at all.

Then again, he _liked _that rowdy troublemaker reputation of his. This wasn’t a favour he was doing, not really. He’d _rather _be the one at the centre of the scene. Keith nearly scoffed aloud, typical Jeff. 

“Well, that certainly makes more sense to me,” the superintendent muttered. “I _was _having a hard time believing that Kogane would have of his own initiative…” he only sounded half-convinced, but like he’d rather for the ease of both his mind and administrative duties accept the somewhat-lie this time. Jeff was relegated a month’s duty of waxing the simulator-room floors and an equal time’s ban from unsupervised exercise time, while Keith was stunned to find himself getting off scot-free. He _did _feel guilty, even though this _was _Jeff… if not for his name and reputation, and the apparent unwillingness of his superiors to accept the possibility of him not quite fitting his idealized image in their minds, he’d certainly not be getting away with this.

Now, the superintendent pushed aside some paperwork to put down an elbow on his desk and prop his forehead up, looking rather tiredly at Jeff. Something gave Keith the impression that this wasn’t the first or even fifth time the two had met under such circumstances.

“I do wish you’d start taking yourself seriously, Dukane,” he warned. “I’m tired of your apparent need to make an awful reputation for yourself, as you apparently believe will impress your peers. And dragging our perhaps-finest pupil here into it— I realize you’re trying to make a name for yourself, but it really is just a nuisance. We _both _know you’re better than this.”

Jeff pouted and looked down sulkily. The superintendent had read his motives thoroughly, and apparently that was a little tough for him to take. Now, the man tapped his forehead like he was trying to expel an oncoming headache, and turned his attention to Keith.

“Anyways, I trust that you won’t fall for Dukane’s tricks again, so there’s no need to report any of this in your records— is there, Kogane?”

Keith straightened his back and shook his head seriously. “Of course, Sir.”

He got a relieved, somewhat-grateful smile in return. “I can believe that. Please try and be a good role model for Dukane, here. He clearly needs it.”

Though Jeff didn’t say anything, Keith could feel a current of resentment coming off of him, which felt pretty good. He swallowed down the smug grin he felt coming on and instead smiled politely at Jeff, which got him back a barely-restrained trace of a scowl.

“I’ll do my best, Sir.”

* * *

Lance blinked and examined the evidence a second time. Yes, _really. _Keith’s nose was bloody, and his left eye had a blackening ring around it. The skin on his knuckles was bruised and bloody, like he’d made it into a weapon without any regard for his human limitations. And yet, that same strange steely resolve in his eyes.

He’d been there when the fight broke out, and yet he was still processing it. More than a few teachers and assistants stopped what they were in the midst of when they saw Kogane walking by, and nearly every student’s eyes widened. Nobody wanted to _say _anything, it was too unbelievable, like claiming you’d seen a ghost right there in the Academy—

“Did you hear? He started a fight with Dukane—“

“No, I’m pretty sure Dukane _started _it, you know how he is. My roommate Lisa, she said she’s gonna give ‘im hell for it, since he got himself into trouble again. But Kogane sure _finished _it.”

“God, he kinda looks even _more_ hot with a bloody nose…”

“Shh! Don’t _say _shit like that so loud!”

“But you agree, don’t you?”

Lance looked down. He felt a weird, uncomfortable tingling, like a more violent version of the old cliche of butterflies in the stomach. Maybe hornets.

Keith didn’t _get _into fights. He just _didn’t. _Usually it was reputed bad eggs like him who did _that, _and one of those stereotypes about Offworlders that helped keep them watched carefully and suspiciously by others. Not just them, obviously; Jeff was definitely from around here, he even went to visit home on a Maglev once a month, Hunk had told him. He just tried too hard, sometimes. It was strange, how he chafed against being born lucky, with a good family in all the right places, almost as reputable as Keith’s but apparently less attentive to whatever trouble he caused… like the grass was always greener on the other side, Jeff wasn’t the only kid who actively worked against his designated spot as an upstanding soldier. Lance had been in enough scrapes with that sort, as well as the more covert gold-star students who got cagey with their reps. But he didn’t seem like a _bad _person. Just sort of unsure of who he wanted to be, and how to get attention. 

Lance didn’t really hold it against him, any of the stuff he’d said about him. He’d gotten used to far worse, and it was pretty obvious he was looking for trouble just then. It’d have been a different story if he said shit like that about Keith, or his other friends, but… he mostly let insults slide off his back like water on wax. He sort of had to, to get by around here. Still, Keith had a certain serious air of determination in his stride right now. Lance offered an angry glare at anyone who gawked at Keith’s freshly blueing bruises, or the scraped knuckles, or the dried blood under his nose.

It would’ve been nice to drift to his side as usual, to walk just a step behind and impose some bubble of personal space for them as he usually did— letting his own reputation keep others a good distance away from them as they walked. But right now it might draw too much attention to go up to him, might get people thinking and wondering about what had caused that whole scuffle. He’d talk to him later.

* * *

“I still can’t believe that _you _got yourself fucked up in a fight,” Lance examined the extent of Keith’s injuries, leaning over him as they both sat on his bed. “That looks pretty painful.”

“It’s not that bad,” Keith shook his head, allowing Lance to touch his face all the same; he seemed to like getting fussed over, leaning his head into Lance's hand. “My nose still feels stuffy, but it doesn’t hurt that much by now.”

Brushing aside his hair, Lance’s fingers lingered on the oblong patch of bruises that extended like an inkblot from Keith’s eye to his ear. He noticed Keith wince when he pressed his thumb against his cheek too firmly, and apologetically brushed his hand back to rest gently on his neck.

“I still can’t believe you hit first, though,” Lance muttered, unhappy to see the extent of the injury, even if it _did _look sort of good on Keith. “Was it just ‘cause he was talking shit about me, or was it the whole ‘boyfriend’ comment…?”

Keith frowned and folded his arms. “Look, I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to make it about that. I just got really angry when he said all that stuff about you. I couldn’t just let him get _away _with it.”

“It’s not like it’s news to me, though,” Lance shrugged. “C’mon, admit it. You jumped on the chance ‘cause it was Jeff, and… well, you can’t have any _public insinuations _about us getting away, right?”

Something like pain on Keith’s expression; guilt, and more than a little shame. Lance hadn’t meant to pick on him about that, but it slipped out. Even though he _knew _it wasn’t by any choice of Keith’s, that he was so sensitive to the idea of people _knowing _about them… it still bothered him, and sometimes he couldn’t help but lash out just a little.

“Sorry. I know… I know you don’t mean it like that, Keith.” He lay down, curled on his side on Keith’s bunk, which somehow always felt comfier than his own, even though the duvet and mattress and every other thing was regulation-identical. But it was _Keith’s; _it smelled like him and he could feel his body heat, his weight making an indent on the mattress. He gave a look to beckon Keith down, to lay next to him and let their faces a little closer.

He _did _look extra-handsome when banged-up like that, Lance admitted to himself. It sort of helped that he got that way over… him.

Keith lay his hand on top of Lance’s, bruises and bandages striping it light and dark. Lance allowed himself a guilty smile.

“Y’_do _know how to pick ‘em then, I guess.”

“I sure do.”

He couldn’t help but pick at the invisible part of the injury that lay between them just a _little _more.

“So you’re really _okay _with me being your ugly weirdo boyfriend, then?”

Keith huffed indignantly. “I don’t think you’re a weirdo. I think you’re great. _And _handsome.”

Lance’s smile grew into an unabashed grin.

“Then what anyone else says means jack shit to me. But… it _was _pretty impressive to see you fight someone for real.”

Keith blinked, his eyes brightening with excitement and surprise. “…Really?”

* * *

Lance sat down on the rooftop ledge next to an unprecedented companion; he’d been buddies with Ginger for a while, but she’d never seemed the kind to sit out here and drink alone. It seemed a little too… pathetic, for anyone but himself. But nonetheless, she didn’t look like she was feeling too sorry for herself.

“What’re _you_ doing out here?”

Ginger shrugged, taking her time before replying with another sip of her drink. “None of your business. You and Sven don’t own the rooftop, y’know.”

Lance scowled. “Whatever. Excuse me for being concerned.”

“Geez— you don’t need to guilt-trip me, I’ll tell you if you care so much.” Ginger sounded like she was irritated, but something told Lance that she’d sort of been hoping someone would ask. “I just wanted to… clear my head, think through some stuff. Lisa got pissed off about me, I dunno, dating around too much— she said it’s _unprofessional, _like I’m supposed to just fuckin’ _network _with my classmates at sixteen.” She scoffed, rolling a can over to Lance and opening another herself. “I just don’t get it. It’s not like I ever let it get in the way of my studies or our friendship, and… she only seems to complain about the _guys. _Sometimes even your best friend can be hard to understand, I guess.”

Lance nodded in sympathy, gratefully accepting and cracking open the drink Ginger had passed him. It was one of those sugary fruit-punch things he resented himself for liking. He didn’t feel like picking on her about what seemed like the obvious reasons behind Lisa’s behaviour, lest he just make things worse. “I think I know what you mean. Kei—Kogane’s always way too rigid about prioritizing school, too.”

“Hmm.” There seemed to be something that Ginger was thinking about, mulling over before saying— and for whatever reason, it made Lance a little nervous. “Funny you mention that.”

“…What do you mean?” Lance asked before he could stop himself, immediately suspecting he’d started a conversation he’d seriously regret later.

“I think…” Ginger took a quick, paranoid glance around, then leaned in and lowered the volume of her voice. “I think Kogane’s got a thing for you, you know.”

Lance felt the stinging pain of vodka cooler snorted out his nose only halfway; he was way too otherwise panicked to really take it in.

“Where the hell’d you get _that _idea?” He hoped that his tone was more incredulous and scandalized than confessional.

Ginger pursed her lips, looked into his eyes for just a little too long. “Well… for starters, I’ve never seen _anyone _else he acts that informal around. Not even other friends— I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him _laugh _around anyone else.” She smiled a little with that thought, clearly satisfied with her sense of illicit knowledge. “I know you two are best friends and all, but— look, I _know _these things, okay? And that’s not _just best friends _behaviour.”

_If you’re so observant, how come you never pick up on why Lisa gets so annoyed by all your boyfriends? _Lance wanted to retort, to return fire, but— he wasn’t eager to get onto Lisa’s bad side. Instead, he just scoffed and folded his arms. 

“I’m not seeing your point,” Lance muttered, wishing he could figure out what needed to be said so that Ginger would just _drop it, _already. “There’s nothing out of the ordinary with him around me; if there was, I’d _know.”_

Okay, so that _definitely _wasn’t the right thing to say; Ginger sighed in aggravation, looking more determined than ever to convince him of her hypothesis. “He reacted pretty strongly to Jeff teasing you guys the other week. I mean, I know he’s punchable, but I’ve never seen Kogane get that emotional about, well, anything.” She glanced at him and Lance shivered involuntarily, feeling like he was showing something in his posture that he had no idea how to hide. “Look, I know it’s probably hard for you to imagine—“

“No _shit,” _Lance spat with a little more anger than he intended to; so the drinks were finally hitting him, then. “Kogane with _me?_ _The _Keith Kogane, who’s never shown any interest in _anyone_, deciding he wants someone like— He could have anyone, _anyone _he wanted and…” he bit his tongue, catching himself getting too close to the truth just a little too late as the alcohol slowed his mental reflexes. “I mean, think about it, Ginger! Can you fucking _imagine?_”

She was definitely absorbing more of the information than Lance intended to allow her, even if she’d been keeping up with him drink-wise. And as he watched her eyes ever-slightly widen with her ultimate epiphany, Lance just couldn’t gracefully handle his defeat.

“It’s fucking ridiculous,” he muttered quietly, tucking his body in under his arms as much as possible— he felt naked, vulnerable. Ashamed, too.“Why me? It’s been months and I still can’t figure it out… I just don’t get it.”

“Because love isn’t something you _can_ get,” Ginger replied calmly, seeming as though she felt some kind of pity for him in this moment— Damn it! Lance thought he could rely on _her, _at least, not to give him that. He wondered just how pathetic he’d look in hindsight when he thought this evening through once sober. “It’s not logical, or something you can figure out by due process. It’s just a blunt object in the night.”

“Since when do _you _give pretentious advice?” Lance snorted, still determined to act as nonchalant as he possibly could, worthless as it was at this point. “I’d expect that bullshit from Sven, but you always seemed to keep a level head.”

Brushing aside her blonde curls, Ginger smiled serenely as she cracked open another can. “I guess I’m just inspired by the news. You and… Keith… until now, I always had a hard time as seeing him as a classmate and not, y’know, _Kogane. _But I guess you know a lot more about him as a person than anyone else, huh?” 

Lance’s lips curled up— he couldn’t resist a smile at that. “Yeah. He’s definitely even more than meets the eye.”

“I mean, I only figured out he actually_ had_ feelings once I saw him around you, but— I still can’t believe I didn’t notice that _you _were into him!” She took a large sip frustratedly. “It seems so obvious, now that I think about it… I guess it was harder to tell ‘cause you were pretty emotional to start with.”

“Am _fucking _not!”

“Well, compared to Keith…”

“Alright, I _guess._”

She smiled. “At least I figured out half of the situation on my own. That counts for something, right? And now I know the other half, too.”

A sudden bolt of panic hit Lance in the chest. How would Keith feel about what he’d revealed to Ginger just now?

“Listen, Ginger, don’t tell _anyone _about this_._” He looked at her sharply, hoping she’d get just how serious this was_. _“Only our friends know, and it _can’t _get out any further than that. I mean, you can imagine why Keith wouldn’t want people to know…”

No, he knew this wasn’t the truth, he _knew _that he was being cruel and petty and that it’d hurt Keith like hell if he knew he was even thinking… 

“Well, okay, the truth is… he’d be in deep trouble with his family, if they knew." Lance felt a familiar bitter taste in the back of his throat; pure anger and disgust towards Keith's parents, as he remembered all they'd done to their son, _kept_ doing whenever they fucking could... "They’re— they're fucking scum, the way they control Keith— how they treat him, their stupid fucking _expectations_ from him! I’d rather… I’d rather be what we are than grow up and live with _that._”

Ginger cast her eyes down in a gesture of understanding. “My lips are sealed."

Lance stared upwards at the coal-black sky, looking for some sense of comfort from the familiar view, but somehow all the faint pinpoints of starlight just made him feel worse tonight. He could feel some kind of trust in Ginger to keep this secret, since she kept her own so well; few people would've guessed it, but she was an Alliance ward too. Lance knew he had that much in common with Ginger, but something about her was different from him and all the others; _she_ never gave away any indication of any sort of tragic past in her demeanour, somehow keeping herself poised and put-together, moreso than anyone else in their boat that Lance had ever met. He didn't know how much of it was just an outward display and how much was real, but he wasn't about to ask. There were some things you just didn't talk about.

But that was just the thing, about people like them. They knew better than anyone else what nobody talked about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I wanted to bring in some of the VV cast... Jeff gives me the impression of someone who can be insensitive and impetuous to the point of sometimes being a jerk, but still having a good heart. I imagine that he was the kind of teenager who just wanted to get some sort of attention and validation, and used to be even more rowdy than he is in the show before he got any sort of guidance from Hawkins. (Is Hawkins the superintendent in this chapter? I don't know, he might be, I just couldn't decide)


	17. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one in particular could use some work, but I felt like it was important to lay some groundwork/"world-building" that I snuck in here... it'll get cleaned up eventually, but I've gotta keep moving!

The year didn’t drag on quite the way it had before, to Keith. Instead of a monochromatic blur of examinations and social performances, he found himself… _enjoying _his life. It made him feel guilty, if he was entirely honest with himself— the concept too alien to sit quite right with him. But if he ever hesitated to take those moments of reprieve with his friends on less-busy nights and on free days, it was guaranteed that Lance wouldn’t let him off the hook. He was determined, it seemed, to make sure that Keith’s schedule made some more room for himself, however much he could manage against the pressures of his academic expectations.

Now he sat at the leftmost corner of a calculus group study session, his final and most dreaded midterm; technically he was here preparing alongside his friends, but he kept drifting back into self-isolation under the sheer stress of the test ahead. Suddenly and without warning, a familiar pale hand shifted aside the blockade of holoscreened notes he had all around him, and he found a familiar frown on the other side.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to study silently like this _all _night,” Lance pouted childishly at Keith, crossing his arms and nudging his leg gently with his own. “I’d hoped if we got you into a group study, you’d at least talk to us a _little _bit. Besides, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing left in the notes you _haven’t _gone over at least five times.”

“I can take a break after the test tomorrow,” Keith protested. He _did _feel kind of bad, since he’d been blowing off anything social for the last two weeks preparing for midterms. He didn’t think that it’d matter that much, but by now he’d managed to pick up on how much it had gotten to Lance, and he felt like… a bit of a jerk. “I _will,_ I promise. But I wouldn’t feel right goofing off when it’s the first thing I’ve got in the morning.” 

Lance sighed resignedly and slumped onto the desk, earning an annoyed look from Pidge as his impact sent pencils rolling off the rim. Hunk tried not to engage in the potential brawl, leaning in more closely to his readings, while Sven apparently didn’t notice amidst whatever definitely-not-school-related website had him absorbed.

“How about instead of whining, you do a little more review yourself?” Pidge’s methods of studying were a bit on the unorthodox side, his notes looking more like the haphazardly connected bits of evidence on a conspiracy theorist’s wall than schoolwork. But, considering how well he was doing, it clearly worked for _him. _

“But it’s _boring,” _Lance whined, apparently still leaning into the whole bratty-kid act; Keith couldn’t help but crack a smile that he hid behind his tablet. For someone so aloof and cool on the surface, Lance really enjoyed having these sorts of theatrical moments amongst friends. “Besides, I’m good on the material. This stuff comes pretty easy to me.”

It was true; while Keith knew he’d have to push himself past the limits to get the grades he needed in this calculus course, Lance had a natural aptitude for it, which he was relatively dismissive of in spite of how impressive it was. Keith knew that he’d likely feel resentful if it were anyone else being this blasé about their talent with something he was struggling with, but since it was Lance… well, he really couldn’t.

“Well… I’ve got an idea for somethin’ motivational to get us through the night,” Hunk’s eyes lit up with excitement for sharing whatever plan had just struck him, clearly eager to provide a mood-lift for the group. “Well, if Pidge agrees, anyways.”

“Spill it.” Pidge nudged, frowning but clearly excited in his curiosity. Even Sven lifted his eyes from what he was using to procrastinate— Keith snuck a glance with the expectation of something typically svennishly scandalous, and discovered that it had been an article on the rehabilitation efforts on Earth’s former ice caps.

“I was thinkin’… I’ve been meaning t’ invite y’guys up to where my family lives to camp out for a night in the woods nearby. Everyone at home’s really wanted to meet my friends, since I talked about you in my letters home…” Hunk looked down, seeming a little embarrassed at the confession, before continuing. “And… since it’s on the way, maybe we could stop by t’ see your family, Pidge. It’s been awhile since y’saw your mom, right?”

“Foster mother,” Pidge corrected quickly, before musing more thoroughly on the matter as he fidgeted with his glasses. “Well… I guess she _would _be really happy if you guys visited, and I wouldn’t mind trying the whole camping thing out either.”

“I think it sounds like a great plan,” Sven grinned, putting an arm around Hunk amicably. “Very wholesome and mild compared to my typical weekends, but… perhaps a good change of pace.”

Keith was surprised to see Lance apparently waiting for _his _answer before giving his own— looking at him sort of hopefully, but not without a hint of suspicion he might forgo him in favour of school once more.

“Well… I’d love to,” Keith smiled at the idea, feeling the nervousness and dread about tomorrow’s exam lighten with the anticipation of something pleasant to counter it. “It’d be… nice.” He wasn’t just looking forward to the camping or off-property exploration, but also the possibility of glimpsing what… what their parents were like. What _other _parents were like.

“Then it’s set,” Lance answered finally. He leaned onto Keith just a bit, showing his gladness that Keith had agreed with a physical gesture. “I can’t wait for tomorrow to be over.”

* * *

Pidge and Chip walking side by side felt like an optical illusion, until Pidge sped off ahead while Chip lingered behind. Today they were invited to visit Chip and Pidge’s foster mother, and Keith couldn’t help but feel nervous, even though he’d been assured she’d _love _him. He always held a certain amount of hesitance towards strangers, especially parental figures.

She still lived out in the next state over— however, Pidge had told him that she was considering moving closer, so she could have him and Chip visit on their free days. Keith figured that a good half of the population of these strange, isolated suburbs, seemingly grown from nothing out of the desert, were Garrison staff and families. They seemed pretty nice once you got past the gates— military security clearance and all, too many important people slept here not to have it. One could almost forget that they were in such an arid environment at all… until you looked more closely and saw that the greenery of the neighbourhood was carefully constructed for the climate. 

Where Keith would’ve expected lawns were some kind of specially-engineered succulent plants, looking like fleshy blue-green fingers sticking out of the rocky, dry soil. Pidge assured them that you could walk on them just like grass, demonstrating by jumping up and down; sure enough, they showed no damage. Hedges made of blooming sedge and short, stocky palms were kept neat and orderly, like a military-standard haircut, but were still sort of pretty. The houses were white and roofed with solar panels, and just about identical to one another, making the whole suburb feel like a strange mirage.

It was eerie how much this reminded him of where he’d grown up, another Garrison town across the mountains where they got some rain, with regular lawns and houses. Still, uniformity had been a mainstay there as well, in appearances of buildings as well as people.

“Boys! I’m so glad you’ve finally brought your friends around,” A tall, silvery-blonde woman emerged from the doorway as soon as the group had stepped past the curb; she must’ve been watching for them from the window. “I was starting to get worried that… oh, well. It doesn’t matter now. Would anyone like a drink? I’m sorry you all had to walk here in this heat!” Not waiting for a reply, she escorted her sons and their guests inside and produced a large pitcher of lemonade from the kitchen.

Keith tried for a natural-looking smile, although he was increasingly anxious; why did it have to be so hard to be _casual? _“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Please, don’t be so formal! You can just call me Cathy,” Greyish-blue eyes crinkled fondly at him, and it felt both soothing and a little bewildering to Keith— this sort of movie-screen motherliness, without expectation or any sense of judgement, was a strange new experience to him. It was a little odd to him that she’d been a career officer until recently, much like his parents, and yet… she was entirely different, completely human and warm in a way he hadn’t really thought existed outside of fiction. Then again, he’d never had many chances to find out. “I’ve been called Ma’am for too long, I think. Retirement has given me a new perspective on all that.”

Keith nodded, and stepped back as she pored over the group, still slightly unnerved by such genuine-seeming affection.

When they had a chance to look around, Keith observed that there were extremely few relics or indicators of any past in the Garrison on display in the house. Apart from some articles that concerned Pidge and Chip, like their dress uniforms in a laundry basket and some academic awards on a desk, it looked like a… _normal _home.

Keith then noticed a series of photographs along the entryway, with two unfamiliar boys progressing in age through the frames, then abruptly stopping before twenty. As the group was ushered into the living room to sit down for refreshments, he couldn’t resist asking about them, in spite of some suspicion it wouldn’t be a wise idea.

“I, uh, hope it’s okay if I ask, but… who are the boys in these photos?”

A pensive, difficult-to-parse expression passed over the older woman’s face. “It’s a bit of a long story, but if you’d humour me— I’d be glad to share it.”

Keith nodded and obediently sat down on a rattan chair, cold glass of lemonade in hand, wondering if he’d made Pidge angry by prying into his family with questions like this— but he didn’t look like he was. Rather, this story seemed like something he was bored by, or resigned to, more focused on fiddling with the straw in his drink than paying attention.

“Well, I had two boys when I was still with the Garrison— their father wasn’t of too much importance to me, but they were. Still, I don’t think I was a very good mother to them at all, much too strict and preoccupied with me work. It feels looking back now like they might’ve gone into the Academy just because they knew it would make me proud… I don’t think it was of particular interest to them. They’ve been missing in action for eleven years, now.”

A portrait sat on the wall above the living room alcove, just across from more recent ones of Pidge and Chip. Two sets of twins in uniform, the same named inscribed on them; Darrell and Charles Stoker, old and new. Pidge had joked caustically that she’d given them the same legal names so that she could recycle the gear that had been labelled with those names. It was morbid, yeah, but _practically _morbid. It had more to do, most likely, with the regret that Cathy had talked about— a desire to try again, to repeat the past and do things _right _this time.

The past was not something that would have been brought up, under normal circumstances. But it seemed like Cathy felt that honesty was due, as though she felt that it was a confession of some inner darkness that she owed to her guests.

“I look back on it now and feel like I wasted too much time. My priorities were all askew, but… well, it’s hard to avoid putting everything into that kind of job. It really did feel important at the time, but now I wonder if I made the right decisions.”

She became somewhat lost in the past for a moment, idly fiddling with some ornament on the coffee table. Eventually, she seemed to return to her train of thought, looking embarrassedly at the guests who’d been waiting for her to continue. 

“Sorry, boys— sometimes my mind wanders and I ramble, I suppose I must be at _that _age now. Well— I _am _retired,” She laughed pleasantly. “I’ve been spending a lot of time on the things I’ve neglected before; music, painting, a little bit of gardening. Taking care of my family, too.”

She stood up abruptly and cleared her throat, still flustered by whatever memory it was that she’d been dwelling on, eager to dismiss the subjects related to it. “Well… I think I ought to start getting some lunch ready. Boys, can you help me in the kitchen?”

The twins nodded with disturbing synchronicity, and the new arrivals to the house had a moment to process how things were unfolding.

“Pidge and Chip’s mom is… really nice,” Keith said awkwardly, staring down at his hands and feeling stupid and childish as the words fumbled out. “I mean, uh, she seems cool.”

“She’s certainly aged well,” Sven mused, earning an unusually violent glare from Hunk. “Hey, I didn’t say anything inappropriate! And she _is _single, right?”

“Sven, don’t make me regret invitin' you.”

Lance smiled. “I agree with Keith. It must’ve been nice for Pidge n’ Chip to grow up with her.”

He didn’t _sound _bitter, but then again, he didn’t _need _to. It was understood, though none of them on the entire journey had mentioned it, that Pidge and Chip had found an advantage in their childhood that Sven and Lance hadn’t. Lance had brought it up one night, to Keith— how hard it was to swallow those belated realizations, things he hadn’t had time or experience enough to think through when he was a kid, only now forced to learn how much of a difference it could make to be sufficiently young and free of traumatic baggage when one entered Alliance custody. Those who’d been small enough not to remember much, not to carry too heavy of a weight and all the things that came with it, weren’t too tough to place with new families. But the older ones _did _need a certain amount of special care and rehabilitation, and, well…

Lance had tried to play it off as another dumb, dark joke of his, but he’d been a little drunk that night, and his shaky voice had betrayed him. Keith had a momentary rush of the anger he’d felt then return to him, rage and hatred that he _knew _wasn’t his to feel, nonetheless directed at his planet and country and the unfairness of everything, everything, _everything._

Pidge and Chip were, in the grand scheme of things, less than perfectly adjusted and well, and yet— _they _were the lucky ones. That was the universe that they’d all come into, and maybe that black humour of Lance’s wasn’t so unnatural after all.

“Yeah,” Sven shared a moment’s eye contact with Lance, and Keith forced himself not to overanalyse it. “It must have been nice.”

* * *

“You’ve got a piano, Pidge?”

He shrugged. “I don’t use it, but my foster mother does. She’s pretty good; she says it always helps calm her nerves to sit down at one.”

Lance couldn’t resist touching the dark lacquered wood— cautiously, though. “This looks really expensive.”

“Yeah, they’re pricey, and a pain to keep tuned. But I think they _sound _nice, at least— I just prefer the kind of sounds you get on a synth keyboard. If one of _you _guys wants to use it, feel free.” Pidge quickly moved on to the kitchen and got to rummaging in the cabinets for snacks, but Lance remained— as did Keith. There was something a little odd about his behaviour, just now.

Keith had his hands folded in front of him, but he was fidgeting with them a bit. Lance caught on and examined him more closely; he seemed to have mixed emotions about the instrument.

“Something wrong?” Lance nudged Keith and asked quietly. “You seem… like something’s bothering you.”

“Nothing,” Keith shook his head. “I was just thinking… I used to play piano a lot, before coming to the Academy.”

Lance raised an eyebrow; he admittedly hadn’t ever thought Keith the type for music. But even for as long as they’d been close to one another, it seemed he still had much to learn. “I wouldn’t have guessed. Why’d you stop?”

“Well…” There was a hauntingly familiar edge in Keith’s gentle smile, something a little thorny. “The thing is, I didn’t learn it because I _wanted _to— it was just one of those things my parents made sure I excelled at. But once I got good enough that there wasn’t anything left for them to criticize, they sort of… moved on to other stuff.”

“So you… probably don’t like playing it, then.” Lance tried to not let any disappointment into his voice. It hurt to think of all the ways that Keith’s life had been controlled and contorted and forced into straight lines from childhood, and he’d never want to awaken any painful memory for him… but Lance still guiltily wished that he could hear Keith play the instrument.

“It depends, I guess. I definitely hated it _then, _when I didn’t have a choice in it.” Keith frowned, eyebrows furrowed in remembrance of an old bitterness. “Why’d they even _care _if I could play it well? It felt like they made me do it just _because _it was hard and unpleasant. God knows it had nothing to do with being a good soldier.”

Keith leaned into Lance a little; not enough to touch him, but enough for Lance to notice. Lance had become hyper-vigilant to those little cues Keith gave, the subconscious motions and expressions and tones of his voice that’d give away what he really wanted or needed, even when he couldn’t allow himself to think it consciously. But Lance knew what to do from here; he closed the gap between their bodies by taking Keith’s hand into his own, felt a little twitch of surprise and then a grateful squeeze.

“I’d like to… well, it’s been a long time, so I don’t know if I’m still any good, but…” Keith spoke quietly by Lance’s ear, sounding a little shy, a little anxious. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if I could play it _now, _when nobody’s forcing me to do it perfectly.” He paused, leaned his head in a little closer to Lance’s, and now there was a little more brightness in his eyes. “I’d like to try playing it for you, Lance.”

Lance grinned and startled Keith with a kiss on the cheek, admiring how quickly his cheeks flushed at any impromptu affection. “And I’d love to hear you play it.”

He looked at the piano again, now; a new, sheepish smile creeped onto his face. “Any requests?”

“Whatever you want,” Lance replied eagerly. “Anything goes.”

“Alright,” Keith gingerly sat down on the narrow wooden bench and pulled Lance down to join him at his side, as he searched for some sheet music. Lance remained quiet, biting down his anticipation and struggling not to fidget.

And Keith did play well— really well. His years of arduous practice showed, but as he moved through the piece he’d selected from the songbook on the mantle he seemed to get a little less mechanical in his perfection, more expressive and more relaxed. It was like Lance could hear him taking steps away from those childhood lessons and the suffering of that part of his life, taking steps and then leaps and bounds to be beside him as he was now. A sense of warmth entered the music, of rhythm that resembled that of life itself; a heartbeat out of a machine. And time seemed to slow, to lose meaning, as long as Lance was listening to Keith, as long as this music held them captive.

When he finished, he was beaming, and Lance thought for a moment that he didn’t wear that expression enough. He didn’t comment on it, in case it’d make Keith feel self-conscious, but he saw in the corner of his eye that their friends had gathered to listen in from the doorway,

“So, I’m not too out of practice, then?”

Lance couldn’t stop himself from stealing a kiss, in spite of their unguarded and overly visible position— a risky maneuver, tactically unsound, but amazingly Keith didn’t seem to mind just now. 

He turned to face Keith fully, and let the sun-like warmth of that rare unreserved, genuine smile sink in. He was…

“It was beautiful.”

* * *

Chip had abruptly told everyone he’d not be coming along to Hunk’s place— instead, staying at home a little longer. He got into a whispered argument with Pidge, who ultimately rolled his eyes and acquiesced.

“Y’sure you can’t come?” Hunk asked with a frown, giving Chip a gentle look. “It’d be a lot more fun with you there.”

Chip nodded, averting his eyes in a somewhat suspicious way that Lance picked up on in spite of its subtlety. “Maybe next time. But I… need to help my mom out with some stuff here.”

“Whatever,” Pidge muttered. “I still think you’re missing out.”

Cathy gave an extra-long goodbye to Keith— he was a little surprised as she pulled him aside. 

“I know you don’t remember, since you were very young, but… I remember seeing you with your parents as a child. I’m familiar enough with what they’re like, and the way it looked they’re no less harsh with you as with their soldiers. I just wanted to tell you…” She pursed her lips, and Keith felt uncomfortable with the sympathy she was giving him— he didn’t really deserve it, he thought, remembering the earlier discussion that had got him thinking about the fucked-up way Lance and Sven grew up. He should be able to deal with problems as small as his own, shouldn’t he? “Well, it’s good to see you’ve turned out alright.”

_Keith_ didn’t think he’d turned out alright, but if she couldn’t tell from the outside… that was a good thing. He _seemed _to be alright, and that was enough. “Um… thank you.”

A warm smile and supportive pat on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’ve got friends to fall back on… it can make all the difference. Don’t forget that they’re there for you, Keith— trust me, I’ve had time and the benefits of hindsight to know these things.”

He nodded silently, and got himself out of the conversation as fast as possible; he knew she meant well, but she didn’t know that Keith _couldn’t _fall back on his friends. It was bad enough when he gave away too much about his problems and feelings accidentally, but intentionally? He couldn’t burden them like that— they had far more real and serious problems than he did, anyways. It was best if he kept them to himself.

She gave them a ride to the maglev station, and waved to them as they left the station, the bright and stark desert light quickly disappearing into a blur as they accelerated eastward. Keith wondered why Chip had stayed behind, and what about it annoyed Pidge so much…but he wasn’t about to bring up any of that now. In a couple of hours, they’d be in the state Hunk was from, meeting _his _family. Keith just hoped they’d be as nice as Pidge’s was.

* * *

Hunk’s door was opened by what Lance figured was his younger sister, and a large, tawny-furred dog watching them eagerly just behind her legs.

“So y’finally brought your friends!” She ran up to her brother for a ferocious bear-hug, and was lifted a foot off the ground in the process. “It’s good to see you’ve got some, after all.”

“Hey!” Hunk grinned and ruffled her hair, which it seemed she also liked to keep tied up with a bandana just like her older brother. “Don’t embarrass me, Kit.” He set her down and knelt to greet the dog with an affectionate scratch behind its ears. “I missed y’too, Belle.”

Hunk herded everyone in, though Belle’s enthusiasm for inspecting the guests made it a little difficult to get through the door. Inside it smelled like cinnamon and cedarwood, with a certain antiqueness to all the furnishings that Lance found strangely nostalgic. Someone thumped down the stairs and hollered a hello, before enthusiastically squeezing Hunk in his arms. Once Lance got a view, he noted a very impressive beard.

“Howdy, kids.” In spite of his impressive stature, his genial, cheerful smile set Lance at ease. He greeted each of them with a very powerful handshake and pat on the back, but it somehow felt… comfortable, familiar. He was just that kind of a guy. “Y’must be those pals from school I’ve heard so much about— Come on and sit down. I just finished a batch of sticky buns in anticipation of y’arriving.”

The boys followed the lead to sit down in the main room, but Hunk stayed behind to help tray whatever delicious-smelling pastry was being pulled out of the oven. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Hunk asked his father, seeming disappointed. “I thought th’whole family was gonna be home today.”

“Well, yer brothers are off at a last-minute project— they were disappointed not to see you before, but it was pretty urgent. Mom’s in the city pickin’ up some things, but she’ll be back in not too long.”

“_I’m _here,” Kit reminded him in an annoyed tone. “Or am I not good enough t’introduce to yer friends?”

“Of course not,” Hunk said quickly. “Guys, this is my li’l sister, Kit. You’ve all already gotten to know our dog Belle, n’ I guess you’ll have to meet my older brothers another time… they do a lot of odd jobs around the county, so they’re usually on the road.”

Lance tried to be reasonable and contain his urge to glare as Kit gave a particularly admiring smile to Keith when greeting him— for fuck’s sake, she’s around Pidge’s age, why not go give _him _that look? “Well, it’s nice t’meet all of you. Dad’s sticky buns are real good, but I should probably get out a jug of milk to go with’em.” With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, and Belle trotted off behind her.

“You’ve got four brothers, right, Hunk?” Sven asked, leaning back into the old but comfortable sofa he shared with Lance and Pidge. “It’s a shame they’re all out.”

“They’ve got a company together, so they usually work as a team,” Hunk explained, setting down the plate of sticky buns he’d brought in with a generous amount of napkins. “It sorta sucks t’feel left out, but they knew it wasn’t what I really wanted… n’ they all were proud of me when I got the Academy scholarship, so I’m not worried I’m disappointin’ them anymore. They know that engineering’s more my speed.”

“I didn’t know you got in on a scholarship,” Pidge frowned, folding his arms. “How come you never told me?”

“It never came up,” Hunk shrugged, but his evasiveness didn’t last under an intensely curious stare from Pidge. “Okay, okay— well, thing is, I know it isn’t exactly common, n’ I’m hardly from the sorta background most people at the academy are. It’s not that I’m _ashamed, _but… I guess I don’t want it t’ be the first thing people know about me.”

Kit came in with a pitcher and glasses, setting them down beside the buns. She quickly picked up on the topic at hand and gave a fierce look directed at nobody in particular. “I just hate th’idea that you’ve got to go serve in the Alliance to get this degree. It doesn’t feel right— you becoming a soldier.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s gonna be _that _bad…” Hunk didn’t sound entirely convinced of what he was saying, it seeming more to reassure his sister than anything else. “‘Sides, I couldn’t have gone without enlisting. Nobody can, no matter how good their grades are or anythin’— that’s the trade-off you’ve gotta make.”

There was a moment of silence before Kit excused herself somewhat sullenly, a sticky bun in hand. Lance had never really thought about it, but… as the circle of friends resumed conversation and dug into the food, his mind wandered. It made sense, all things considered; he and Sven had been chosen based on a panel of tests, but only a handful of the kids at the institute they’d come from were. Most would’ve killed for the opportunity— there weren’t exactly a lot of opportunities growing up as an orphan on a foreign planet, so when they signed themselves on for the Academy’s training and the service that followed, it was understood that they _were _some kind of lucky for it. After all… it wasn’t like staying in the system could’ve yielded anything better, so even as young as they were, it wasn’t a tough decision to make.

But Hunk _had _a family, had parents and siblings doing different lines of work— _and_ he was great at what he did, excelling in the aerospace engineering program like few others. It was just a matter of cost, that the Garretts couldn’t afford the kind of education Hunk needed to make full use of his skill and talents. There was no pressing reason for it to be necessary, to have to go through the military for free tuition in these types of programs— besides the demand for skilled soldiers and experts for the Alliance, essentially guaranteed to end up with them if the routes for getting the best training went through their own academies. And with the way that the Drule wars seemed to be going, as far as any cadet was allowed to know… there was _always _a new vacancy to fill with a new recruit.

It made the gooey, sugary bun turn bitter in his mouth to think about. Lance took an angry enough swig of milk to earn a concerned glance from Keith, putting a hand on his knee as though to calm him.

“We’re gonna head outside to camp for the night, right, Hunk?” It was apparent that Keith was trying to sound cheerful and upbeat, but Lance recognized that he was trying to distract him with something positive— it _was _sweet of him. “I’m looking forward to the hike.”

Sven rolled his eyes. “Of course _you _are, Keith. All of your interests are so _wholesome, _it’s almost sickening.”

Keith gave a sharp look but said nothing, letting Hunk describe the details of where they’d be heading out to, and what they’d need to bring. It _did _sound nice, Lance admitted to himself—he remembered that trip he’d gone on with Keith months ago, before they were even together, and how in spite of all the unpleasant memories and confusing feelings he’d still enjoyed it. Now they’d have to share the experience with their friends, but… he’d make sure to find _some _time to get Keith alone.

* * *

“Are you sure this’ll be a good site this time of year?” Lance asked, looking around at the tall grass yellowed with sun and buzzing with insects, fringed by dense and wild-looking forests. “This looks like the kind of place that’s full of snakes.”

"Don’t worry,” Hunk grinned at his squadron of friends, arms full of myriad outdoors equipment. “I used to camp out here all the time when I was a kid. We’ll need to set up the fire pit an’ bug zappers, but it’ll be easy between the five of us.” He set the supplies down after a moment’s pause, suddenly a little less cheerful. “I just wish Chip could’ve come along, too. I feel like I barely ever get to hang with him.”

Pidge shrugged, barely looking away from the fire pit he was cleaning out; Lance suspected that there was something more to Chip’s absence that Pidge wasn’t sharing, but it’d have to wait until later.

“Can I set up the tarps?” Keith was clearly tired from all the running around he’d been doing, wiping the sweat off his face with his shirt and a little slumped over. Still, he always was eager to help out with these kinds of boy-scout activities, perking up at the very mention of it.

“Maybe y’should sit down n’ rest for awhile, Keith. You carried a lot of heavy stuff on the way up here.” Hunk fished a water bottle out from his pack of the evening’s rations and tossed it to Keith. “Try to relax for once in your life.”

Keith scowled, but ultimately acquiesced, sitting down on a log and drinking next to Lance as he cleaned up and levelled the dirt where they’d put the tent tarp down. Sven and Hunk were already assembling the poles, but it seemed like they’d need a few more tries; this was an old-fashioned model, not like the streamlined self-assembling ones that sometimes got used in Alliance field ops. Lance took a break from his work to sit down next to Keith, amusing himself with the way Keith got all flustered when he leaned on his shoulder.

“Enjoying the fresh air, Kogane? You needed this breathing space more than any of us.”

“It’s good to have a break,” Keith admitted. “I’ve been stressed over midterms the last few weeks, but now that they’re over I feel exhausted.”

“Stressed is an understatement— I barely _saw_ you for half a month,” Lance sighed, feeling all of a sudden like looking away— he was catching himself getting just a little too vulnerable, unable to stop but aware enough to feel embarrassed about it. “You were constantly in the library or studying alone in your room.” He would never want to admit it to Keith, but it _had _worn Lance down, and made him feel pretty pathetic— just how lonely he’d gotten when Keith was too busy for him. But it was easy to sweep that memory to the side when Keith pulled him in for a kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and the softness of his voice made every last hard feeling in Lance’s chest evaporate. “I guess I’m a pretty shitty boyfriend, huh?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lance muttered, a little embarrassed with himself over all the emotions he’d had and _was _having over something this stupid. “I know you’ve got to keep up with expectations. I just wish… I wish you didn’t have to.”

Keith sighed. “Me too.” He rested his head on Lance’s shoulder, and in spite of the fact that they’d been together for a couple of months already… Lance’s heart still jumped up and down.

A sharp voice interrupted them. “Hey, you two stop goofing off and get the tarp ready!”

“Fuck off, Pidge!”

* * *

The smell of marshmallows and sausages roasting over the campfire got Keith hungry in spite of his nervousness. Sven was passing around cans of beer from the cooler-bag he’d had in his backpack.

“Hey, what about me?” Pidge reached over and started poking around in Sven’s bag, before he lifted it up out of his reach.

“Even _I’m _not that stupid, Pidge; you’re getting a juice-box, and you’re going to like it.”

“Aw, fuck you.”

Lance sat down next to him, unceremoniously offering a drink. Keith still felt weird about drinking alcohol when they weren’t legally allowed to yet; but he also didn’t want to act like the Academy golden boy all the time, either. He wanted to show Lance how good he was at acting normal, uninhibited, _cool. _Maybe he liked the way it helped him calm his nerves and talk more easily, too.

“Are you going to bring out the guitar any time soon, Hunk?” Sven reclined and rested his head on the log in between Keith and Lance’s legs, and added something from his flask… _into _his beer. “We brought it for a reason, after all.”

Looking abashed, Hunk awkwardly pulled the instrument out from its bag, turning a little red.“Well, I didn’t wanna impose…”

“C’mon,” Lance insisted.“I know you’re really good, and it’d be fun.”

“Campfires _are _always best with a few songs,” Keith agreed, smiling at Hunk encouragingly. “If you’d be willing to play, we all wanna listen.” 

Hunk looked a little embarrassed, but convinced enough of his friends’ requests to go along with them. “Well, if y’insist.”

Even Pidge stopped choking down s’mores for the duration of Hunk’s performance; Keith never knew he could play guitar, let alone sing so well. He managed to rope them into joining in for a few songs, and after finishing his drink it was actually pretty enjoyable. Lance and Sven teased him for being such a lightweight; it only took one drink, but as long as he could use it as a sort of permission to be less reserved with hanging his arms around Lance, he didn’t care.

Pidge yawned. “Why’m I so tired all of a sudden?”

“Well… you ate three bags of marshmallows,”Keith responded, a little amazed in hindsight at the feat. “So now you’re probably crashing from all the sugar.”

“I don’t even like marshmallows,” Pidge grumbled, reluctantly heading into the tent. “But they’re pretty good when they’re on fire. Guess I’ll just… take a little nap.”

“I want to take a walk through the woods before I go to sleep,” Lance said, leaning with a little more pressure onto Keith… as though he were trying to get a point across. “Keith, y’wanna come with me?”

He didn’t need to ask twice— Keith felt energized as soon as the prospect of a moment alone with Lance came up. “You bet.”

* * *

Walking through the darkness of the night, hand in hand— it made Keith feel a little childish. Maybe even nostalgic in an odd sense; sentimental for something that had never been before. Lance had always been good at finding his footing even in pitch-black surroundings, but Keith kept stumbling on roots and rocks, eventually deciding to hold on closer to Lance and let him lead the way. He didn’t mind having an excuse for hanging onto Lance like this; he’d missed their late-night and between-class meetings during midterms, and this was the first chance they’d gotten to be alone together since. 

“What are those weird flickering lights?” Lance asked, gesturing to the faint glimmers of green that were pulsing amidst the trees. As soon as he recognized them, Keith grinned in excitement.

“Fireflies— aren’t they cool?”

“They’re insects?” Lance seemed to be in awe, looking around anticipating the next blink of green light. “I didn’t know there were any animals on Earth that could do that.”

Keith didn’t really feel all that absorbed with the fireflies, pretty as they were. He was more eager to watch Lance’s eyes shining with happiness, to see him smile. “Not nearly as many as Balto, but there’s a few.”

Lance took Keith’s hand, and pulled at it. “Well, let’s go in deeper where it’ll be darker. We should be able to see them better there, right?”

“I don’t know if we should, it’s already…” Keith managed to shut his rational self up, and grinned. “Yeah, let’s try it.”

It was tricky to find their way, not least because the terrain was completely unfamiliar. But Lance really _was _amazingly adept in the darkness; it was strange, Keith knew that Pidge had excellent night vision because Baltons generally did, but what about Lance…?

They found themselves in a glade surrounded by pools of water from all sides, a chorus of frogs croaking now overlapping with the crickets. It smelled fresh and green, and although it was far too dark for Keith to see much, he felt secure as long as he held tightly onto Lance. What he _could _see were slivers of moonlight reflected on the water, and the flickers of luminescence now increasingly apparent over the silver mirrors. They seemed like signal flares, or tiny fireworks… beautiful but fleeting in their momentary glow. Still, he could feel that Lance was enjoying this.

“I wish I could keep some in a jar or something, to take with us,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the din of the night. “But it wouldn’t be the same if they weren’t out here.”

“Yeah.” Keith didn’t really feel like talking; Just listening to Lance was enough, and he didn’t want to ruin this moment by saying something stupid. 

Lance pulled him in even closer, and Keith could see his face outlined in silvery moonlight, features glowing and eyes shining. “This is a nice place for us to be alone together, huh?”

Keith just nodded, and Lance laughed. “You’re being too quiet tonight, Kogane. Lemme see if I can persuade you to use your mouth a little more.”

Maybe he_ didn’t _need to worry about saying anything dumb, after all; Lance was really, really persuasive. 

* * *

When they returned to the camp, Lance headed for the tent to sleep right away, but Keith wanted to sit outside and watch the stars a little more. As they kissed goodnight, it almost sounded like someone was chuckling behind them… when Lance had gone to bed, Keith turned around and saw Sven. Sven, of course— being his usual smug asshole self.

How the hell was he still awake, after all he’d been drinking…?

“Were you watching us, Sven?”

“Not my fault you were doing that right in front of me,” he shrugged. “I was here first.”

Keith was too embarrassed and angry to say anything, so he just sat down and crossed his arms, staring into the glowing embers in the fire-pit. 

“Aren’t you cold? The fire’s nearly gone out.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get into my sleeping bag soon enough, anyways.”

Now Sven was looking directly at him, and there was something… new, a glint in his eyes. It flickered frighteningly.

“Lance will get bored if you keep kissing him like that.” Even when it was clear he’d had a bit too much to drink, the catlike focus of Sven’s eyes didn’t lose its sharpness.

Keith glared at him agitatedly. “Like _what?” _

“Like a _virgin_,” Sven belittled him playfully, and Keith was furious with himself for letting such an obvious snare grab him— but Sven had a way with pushing his buttons. “You’re so reserved, Keith.”

“Like you’re such an expert,” Keith muttered. “You just don’t stick around with anyone long enough to run out of tricks. That’s all.”

He got a laugh for that one. “I think you might be onto something there. But still… what is it they tell us in our drills? The only way towards excellence is experience.”

“Hmm.” Keith didn’t want to admit it, but now he was wondering… _was _he that boring to Lance? He’d notice it if he was, right?

Sven reeled ever-so-slightly, his composure only lost for a frame before that soft, easy smile returned.

“I could teach you a thing or two, you know.” His hand brushed over Keith’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’d like it.”

“Wh…” Keith moved away, feeling equal parts confused and concerned. “Jesus, that’s not… do you even know what you’re saying, Sven?”

A contemplative frown as Sven let the rejected hand fall onto the ground. “Just an idea. No need to get so offended.”

“I’m not _offended, _I…” Curling his knees in, Keith felt sort of oddly glad to be able to see Sven in a new light from all this. He was vulnerable and anxious beneath the icy surface, too. Not so different from Lance… “I just never know what to think of the shit you say, Sven. I don’t understand it.”

“I’m just trying to have some fun with you,” Sven laughed. “You’re too serious, no matter where we are. I sort of hoped you might lighten up off academy grounds…”

Keith sighed. He felt sort of bad about making Sven all… dejected, like this. But he just didn’t understand what it was that he _wanted— _was offering kissing lessons a perfectly normal Sven-ish thing to do, or was this just because he was drunk and looking for trouble? Or something else entirely? He honestly had no idea.

Lucky for him, it seemed that Sven’s train of thought had already left that particular station. “You know, Kogane— sometimes I wonder why I even hang around anymore now that you and Lance have each other. Perhaps I’m the proverbial three that makes a crowd, at this point.”

“That’s not true,” Keith rebutted quickly. “You’re still our friend, it’s not like— I didn’t know you… worried about stuff like that, Sven.”

Sven rolled onto his side and moved a little closer towards the warmth of the dying bonfire. “Can you really blame me?”

“Well— let me tell you, Holgersson— like it or not, we’re all gonna be friends forever. Got it?”

Sven might’ve rolled his eyes at him just now, but… he did seem a little more at ease, like his smile was a little more genuine. “Tch. Yes, Sir.”

* * *

They slept in sleeping bags haphazardly arranged inside the large tent, the sounds of nocturnal life still more than audible and the moonlight passing in through vents. Lance stared at the thin fabric ceiling, annoyed with himself for having so much difficulty falling asleep, but it _was _an unfamiliar terrain— his guard stayed up just a little higher than usual for situations like these.

“Hey, Lance…” Pidge leaned over and tapped him on the shoulder. “You awake?”

“Of course I am,” Lance grunted and rolled over. “What’s up?”

“Well… I just wanted to tell you… I got a message my foster mother just now. She’s decided to move into town by the Academy until we graduate, so we’ll be going home on the weekends.” There was a strange sparkle to eyes, even though they’d long since turned the lights off.

“Huh,” Lance replied, unsure of why Pidge had that look. “Cool.”

Pidge sighed, clearly frustrated that Lance wasn’t getting whatever the hell it was he was insinuating.

“So. You can… have the room to yourself for those.”

“Oh.” After a moment’s thought, Lance’s eyes widened. “Uh- Thanks, Pidge.” He felt not just embarrassed, but also guilty; Pidge shouldn’t have to _think _about shit like that at his age. At the same time, it was stupid of him to expect any innocence to last in an environment like the Garrison. “I guess it’ll be nice to have the space.”

Pidge grinned. “Yeah, I figure.”

* * *

The next morning, Keith made an uncharacteristic show of kissing Lance as unboringly as possible, where he was certain that Sven could see them.

“I can’t believe _I’m _the one saying this,” Lance whispered, seeming satisfied with Keith’s efforts. “But we probably shouldn’t do this in front of everyone.”

“They’re not paying attention to us,” Keith replied, nonetheless certain he’d made Sven well-aware of his competence in kissing— Sven was always watching when Keith _didn’t _want him to be, after all. “Besides, I’m making up for what we didn’t do these last two weeks. But… I guess we can do that _after _we finish packing up, right?” 

“Right,” Lance murmured, still evidently uncommitted to returning to their work as he refused to loosen his grip on Keith. “I just don’t wanna get told off by fuckin’ _Pidge _again. I don’t need an eleven-year-old thinking I’ve got no self-control, even if it’s a little true.”

Keith laughed, took a reluctant step away to part the two of them. “Fair enough.”

They took the trail back down to the house while it was still cool in the early morning, and had breakfast on the porch, with Belle circling around offering her own goodbyes by trying to steal the bacon off their plates. Before they left, Mr. and Mrs. Garrett packed up some sandwiches and drinks for the maglev ride, and gave enthusiastic invitations to come by again soon. Kit had wanted a hug from him, and Keith obliged— he noted Lance looking away pointedly, which puzzled him. Geez… it was Hunk’s _kid sister, _but then again he knew that _he_ acted that irrationally sometimes, too.

On the long ride back, Lance fell asleep leaning onto Keith’s shoulder, in spite of it still being the morning. The whole trip already seemed like a pleasant dream to Keith; it almost felt like it had been an expedition to another planet, the way that it had contradicted everything Keith knew about home and family and parents and _everything. _But it had been… nice. Maybe even made him a little hopeful.

Normally, Keith would extinguish these thoughts right away, not let them smoulder until they got painful. But within this moment— leaving behind the new worlds he’d just discovered, with the warmth of Lance against his side and the sunlight from the window shining onto the both of them— he’d let himself dream. He would, just for a minute, imagine what kind of world they’d share if they could, how he might even be able to be like Pidge’s mother or Hunk’s parents rather than his own, that he and Lance could be—

That was where the borderline of the dream was, the point after which it got too painful to think about. Keith doubted he could ever make a good husband or father, anyways, even in his most ridiculous dreams. He knew that Lance could, and that he’d be a hell of a lot better off doing it with someone else. But still… it made for a nice picture in his mind.


	18. Nerves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last time I made something that oozed with this much cheesiness was when I overloaded a quesadilla I was frying (ba dum tssh)
> 
> I can allow myself some mushy character-building nonsense chapters alongside the pretentious plot-contributing symbolism-filled nonsense chapters, right?

The large dome housing the Academy’s swimming pool was empty at this time of day, save for two; ever since he’d discovered that narrow time slot of vacancy, Lance had been going for swims there regularly. Keith walked carefully on the narrow strip of dry pavement up to the edge of the pool. He’d meant to study this afternoon just like he’d told Lance, he really _had _tried to focus, but… 

“Hey, here’s some unexpected company.”

Lance dove underwater in a flash of silver that broke the calm surface of the pool, concealed from Keith until he surfaced at the ledge where he stood. He reappeared in front of Keith so quickly that it startled him a little, the splash echoing all around them as the sound carried across the water. 

“Didya change your mind about solo studying after all?” He grinned upwards, brushing aside the wet hair clinging to his face. Keith felt a little embarrassed in spite of himself for admiring the view— they were _together, _so why’d he still feel so weird and guilty about it?

“I think I needed a short break,” Keith admitted, crouching down carefully on the slippery tiles to get closer to Lance’s level. “I couldn’t really keep my focus, cooped up for that long.” He could’ve _made _himself stay on task, as he’d forced himself to in the past. Keith knew, even if it was tough to admit to himself, that he’d been looking for an excuse to go seek Lance out. 

“Sounds like you need to unwind a little,” Lance mused, his tone of voice a little conspiratorial. “Maybe you should join me in here?”

Keith bit his lip. That _was _what he wanted to do, and what he’d intended when he came down here, but… why was he suddenly feeling so hesitant?

There were security cameras in here, of course. So they couldn’t actually _do _much, but… just taking a dive into the water with Lance sounded better than anything. And Lance seemed to want him here, too… but, just to be sure— “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to have the whole pool to yourself?”

He was _laughing _at him now, damn it. “Don’t be stupid, Keith.”

Well, that was all the reassurance that Keith needed. “Okay, okay—let me go get changed.”

* * *

The water was warm, but still felt refreshing to Lance’s skin after a morning spent on drills out in the desert sun. The smell of chlorine didn’t bother him, either; of course he’d rather be out on a beach or river shore somewhere, but he wasn’t _that _picky. Lance was just a little irritated with himself that he hadn’t thought to come here to swim until this semester, when he’d known about the pool ever since he’d gotten here. Then again, he’d always assumed that it would be packed at all hours, but he’d since been very pleased to learn that there were a few time slots it was likely to be all but abandoned.

Yeah, it was great to get into the water for a swim. But it was even better now that he’d managed to convince Keith to join him. A little distracting, sure— but _what _a distraction.

He got about as close in as Keith would allow in this kind of space, enough so that he could whisper something that wouldn’t reverb throughout the space. “You look real good like this, y’know that?” 

“Like what?” Keith seemed to be actually, _seriously, _puzzled by his dumb comment. Lance couldn’t help a grin— he was so fucking oblivious, and it was really, really cute. 

“Wet and shirtless, obviously,” Lance drawled, daring to get just a little bit closer and muss Keith’s hair. “Not to say you don’t look great in your uniform…” Idly, he wondered how much touching he’d be permitted to do in a space like this, where the threat of closed circuit cameras clearly remained heavy on Keith’s mind. If it had been a smaller space, like a classroom, Lance would’ve had no problems disabling it temporarily to grant them a little privacy, but for a common area like the pool it would be far too likely for his tampering to be noticed.

At least he was next to him, though. And he could enjoy that irritated, embarrassed scowl on his face. “Quit it.”

“Aw, I’m just being honest,” Lance laughed, splashing at Keith playfully as he glided around him. “C’mon, you know I’m right.” The way Keith blushed, it was pretty clear that he was _way _out of touch with how objectively _fucking perfect _he was.

“Jeez,” Keith muttered, hiding more of himself underwater but not sounding entirely unhappy with Lance’s comments. “Maybe you just get impressed too easily, you ever think of that?”

“Man, you _are _stupid.” Lance nudged Keith gently, and caught a shy smile beginning to form on his face. He leaned in for a surreptitious whisper, too eager to watch Keith get flustered to even be embarrassed with the words coming out of his mouth. “Stupidly handsome, that is.”

Sure enough, he got what he was looking for with Keith’s embarrassed squawk of a response. “Damn it— Am I gonna have to hold you underwater to shut you up, McClain?”

“You can _try._”

They spent a little more time doing casual half-laps, half-circles around one another, laughing and splashing and just a little roughhousing… before they gave up the attempt at exercise entirely.

“Let’s go back to my room,” Lance murmured, buoying himself with his grip on Keith’s arm. “No security cameras in _there.”_

Keith looked askance nervously. “I don’t know… we’re supposed to meet everyone for the mechanics term project in an hour. And we might lose track of time—“

“It’ll be fine,” Lance put a finger to Keith’s lips, hoping it’d maybe help sway his mind if he messed with him a little in just the right way. He didn’t know why this mattered to him so much all of a sudden, but it _did. _“C’mon, Keith. Please?”

“Well…” the look in his eyes said he’d been hoping that Lance could break through his ever-cautious, perfectly-proper shell. Lance had learned that with Keith, who had trouble asking for what he wanted and giving himself permission— he appreciated being given a little encouragement. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

Lance grinned. “Race you to the stairs?”

* * *

The ceiling fan was on. It buzzed quietly in the background, rustled loose papers, mingled with the sound of shifting fabric and human touch.

Lance _knew _his heart was beating stupidly fast. Something in his nerves tingled ice-cold, telling him _caution, caution. _Was he scared? No… nervous, maybe. Yeah, nervous. _Fuck this, _he cursed at himself silently. _I was the one who _started _coming onto him just now. I was the one who convinced him we should get some time alone in his room, and— now I’m_ _nervous?_

Keith was heavy, but he didn’t mind when he pushed his weight onto him- it was stabilizing. Sinking into the mattress like water, looking up at someone who really wanted _him _that badly, almost felt surreal if not for that pressure calling him back.

It’s not that he didn’t _like _it— he really, really, _really _did. It was just that every time the boundary lines he’d set up shifted, he couldn’t help but feel on edge. Now it felt like the boundaries had disappeared completely, and he was at a loss for what it was that he wanted. He hated that he couldn’t quell the old instinct to hide every trace of vulnerability, or stop his head from filling up with stupid insecurities. The ghosts of the past were difficult to shake, he knew that much, but did they really have to get in the way _here?_

“Hey… is something wrong?” Keith shifted to the side, away from where he’d been leaving some rather difficult-to-explain marks. His eyes flashed with concern even through the softness of the gaze that he gave him.

Lance turned his head to the side, suddenly not feeling up to eye contact. “‘Course not. Why would there be?”

He felt Keith lift and perch up over him— _evaluate _him for some kind of secret message or hidden meaning to his body language. Lance hated that. He looked up into his eyes grouchily.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Because…” Keith’s brow furrowed in a way that couldn’t help but endear Lance, even if he _was _frustrated with the abrupt cease-fire. “…You don’t seem like you really want to.”

“It’s not _that,” _Lance protested. “I’m just— I’m just still getting used to this.”

It was understood that _this _meant uniform jackets tossed haphazardly across the floor, a locked door… finding out that instinct alone only got you so far, and that this was going to need a lot of careful, deliberate navigation.

Something buzzed underneath the pillow, forcing Lance to reluctantly pull it out and see who the fuck wanted _what _the fuck from him right _fucking_ now—

[ BIRD: _You totally forgot didn’t you >:/]_

Lance tossed his head back onto the pillow with a hiss of frustration. Keith surveyed his grandiose gesture of frustration questioningly. 

“You were right about losing track of time,” he sighed resignedly. “We’re already five minutes late for the project meeting.”

“Shit.” Keith collapsed face-down onto the bed next to him. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

“_We _forgot. Diffusion of responsibility.” Lance sighed, sat up and stretched out, feeling incredibly resentful towards his past self for the poor planning. “Get our jackets off the floor— I’ll find us a hairbrush.”

* * *

The half-judgemental, half-amused glares they received as they stepped in made Lance wonder if this qualified as getting dressed down.

“Look who decided to show up.” Pidge leapt down from a support beam nearly silently, landing in front of Lance to poke him accusingly in the chest. “I expected _you’d _be late, but you gotta keep Keith back too?”

“We got distracted.” Lance huffed, looking askance and hoping Pidge wouldn’t take the opportunity to blast him over the details of that lateness that he totally, definitely already knew.

“I’ll do clean-up by myself,” Keith said apologetically, clearly not used to being in the position of the straggling team member. “To make up for being late.”

“It’s okay,” Hunk assured Keith with a hearty pat on the back. “S’ just twenty minutes. Pidge is just antsy today ‘cause there’s a sandstorm out and he can’t do his whole stress-relief parkour thing.”

“It’s not a _parkour thing, _it’s a common Balton physical mindfulness technique-“

“—where you jump around on rooftops and climb places you aren’t supposed to.” Hunk shrugged, pretending to be oblivious to Pidge’s folded arms and scowl in his general direction. “Sounds like parkour to me, little dude.”

As Lance stood on a ladder to pull down some equipment, his shirt rode up and he noticed Sven smirking at him. He hissed a few curses and pulled it down hurriedly, nearly falling backwards.

“Be careful up there,” Sven called out innocently. “No need to fuss about your clothes.”

Lance gave him the dirtiest look he could muster, wishing he’d had the forethought to tell Keith not to leave such physically obvious marks where he couldn’t easily cover them. And _he _was the one who got all freaked out about regular neck hickeys. _Hypocrite._

“At least I know why you were late now."

“Eat shit,” Lance glowered, squeezing the ladder rung in his hand until the metal edges dug into his skin painfully. “Can you stop being a slut for five minutes?”

Sven laughed breezily, apparently uninsulted— though Lance didn’t miss the flicker of something like surprise in his eyes. “It’s not my fault you make it so fun to tease you, Lance.”

“Guys,” Hunk hissed, his eyebrows knit in irritation. “D’you have t’talk so much about this stuff in front of Pidge?”

“I know what they’re talking about,” Pidge rolled his eyes, boredly flipping through his notes and not at all seeming scarred by the conversation. “I’m not a little kid, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.” A resigned frown formed on Hunk’s face. He’d always been the one looking out for Pidge, trying to protect as much of his childhood as the Academy would allow. Suddenly Lance felt pretty guilty— Hunk was right. Pidge _shouldn’t _have to hear about the more mature side of his romantic endeavours.

“You’re right, Hunk— sorry,” Lance shrugged. “No more of your cooties, Sven.”

“Deal,” Sven nodded, the smug grin he wore seeming a little thinner than before. “I’ll behave myself, for Pidge.”

“Whatever,” Pidge mumbled annoyedly, his mind already back to more interesting matters as he delved into the circuitboard he was wiring. “Just remind _me _not to grow up.”

* * *

“Sven, what the hell _is _this?”

“Why don’t you read the label and find out?” He didn’t need to force himself to sound casual; to Sven he might’ve been talking about groceries, but to Keith—

“Jesus— why’d you leave it on _my _table?”

Sven rolled his eyes. “Oh, come _on. _You’re going to need it eventually, and I suspected it’d be a mortifying ordeal for you or Lance to get it yourselves, so I thought I’d help.”

“Fuck off!”

“You’re welcome.”

Keith eyed the bottle warily, feeling ashamed just _looking _at it. He could _totally _have gotten it himself, though; he didn’t need _Sven _to help him. But he couldn’t let him see that he was embarrassed; that’d mean defeat.

“Oh, yeah— I nearly forgot, you might want these as well.” Sven nonchalantly reached into his bag and threw a handful of square foil packets at Keith. “These are available for free in the med bay, but once again, I didn’t think you’d have it in you—“

“I could have just_ fine!_” Keith hissed, cursing the heat rising to his face. “Quit being so— so _presumptuous!_”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed,” Sven muttered, though the trace of a smirk didn’t leave his face. “Just looking out for my friends.”

Keith mumbled angrily, incoherent even to himself. How did he feel about all of this? How was he _supposed _to feel?

He shoved the offending articles into his bedside drawer, slamming it with more force than was necessary, trying not to show Sven how he’d managed to get under his skin. The display seemed to just amuse him more, and Keith turned to glare at his roommate. Why was it always _this _subject that Sven chose to mess with him over? A certain paranoid and unkind thought crossed Keith’s mind. Was he constantly saying these things to rub in the fact that all this was _easy _to him?

“I wish I knew what the hell your problem was, Sven. Why do you keep picking on me about… _this?_” Keith more fell onto than sat on his bed, more upset with himself than Sven at this point. “Are you doing this to embarrass me, or make me feel insecure, or what?” _Because if so, it’s working._

“It’s not my fault you make yourself such an easy mark,” Sven laughed, though after a moment he seemed to reconsider. Keith realized that he must’ve given away a little too much in his reaction; showed too much discomfort and anxiety and fear. But Sven didn’t seem entirely at ease, either. 

Keith didn’t really want to have this conversation with _him, _but it didn’t look like Sven was going to let this go. “You really are nervous about the whole concept of it, aren’t you?”

It would’ve been easy to shut down and snap at him to quit invading his privacy, but some part of Keith wanted to get this off his chest. “Maybe. To be honest… I don’t know how anyone _wouldn’t _be. How the hell do _you _do it?”

“Practice makes perfect.”

Sven had a lot more to him underneath the surface than he ever really let on, like an iceberg’s hidden mass below the water. He had a persona he put on for social survival, for protection, for disguise— just like Keith did himself. 

Eager to shift his mind to a different set of tracks, Keith set out his books on the desk and buried his mind deep in their contents. Finally— something he could understand! At least with school, if he applied himself enough things would make sense.

“…Didn’t you just come _back _from the library, Keith?”

“I just want to get a little more review in before bed.”

“You’re constantly training or studying,” Sven frowned at Keith from his bunk, sounding more concerned than disparaging. “That can’t be good for you.”

“I’ll turn the desk light off soon,” Keith assured. “Or if you want, I can go back to the library so you can turn it off—“

“That’s not it,” Sven said with some annoyance. “I could sleep perfectly fine under a searchlight, _with _a spaceplane engine running at full volume— it’s not about me. I just feel a little worried about your… work habits.”

Keith wanted to snap back with a _s__ince when do you care, _but something occurred to him; that the reason Sven was starting to share these concerns was because he only now felt that Keith might care to hear them. Sven was the sort of guy who didn’t stick his nose into anyone else’s business, and didn’t want _theirs _in his. But even though they’d been roommates for two years now, and friends for about as long, he’d only started to get _really _close to Sven pretty recently. And since they were that much closer, Sven had been getting nosier and more vocal about his opinions on Keith’s choices; annoying as it could be, Keith _did _sort of understand why. Even when he was teasing him, Sven was trying to help. He didn’t talk about himself _or _others unless he felt close enough to them.

“I guess you’re right,” Keith finally conceded with a small smile. “I could do to improve my sleep schedule. Thanks for looking out for me, Sven.”

“Don’t get all heartfelt and sincere on me,” Sven muttered, though he didn’t quite sound annoyed. “I’m too tired to come up with good insults, that’s all.”

“Sure, Holgersson. Whatever you say,” Keith turned the light off and climbed into his bunk, the room now entirely dark except for the small amount of moonlight coming from the window. “Goodnight.”

“…Goodnight, Keith.” Sven’s reply came slowly, as though he hadn’t quite been sure of whether it was an _on-brand _enough thing to say. But in the end, he wasn’t that cool and distant _all _the time.

It usually took Keith some time to get to sleep, and tonight was no different. He was still processing some of the events of the day, namely overanalyzing his interactions with Lance to figure out a kind of objective score for his performance. _Jesus, ‘interactions’? It’s a relationship, not a fucking flight sim. _Keith cursed his nature of difficulty with understanding people, even the person he was the closest to. But modelling it as something academic or military— things he _did _know— had always made it easier for him to process.

Well, he’d gone along with what Lance wanted back at the pool, so that must be good… but later on when they’d actually been alone together in his room, hadn’t Lance gotten sort of uncomfortable? Or was he overthinking it? He must have done _something _wrong. But what?

Thinking back on it… Keith never _could _deal with their encounters quite the way he wanted to, the way he meant to. Even when he _did _eventually get through his hesitance, there always came the anxiety afterwards in a hundred forms— even _besides _the standard-issue guilt and fear about someone finding out. Was it too much, or not enough? Was he a good enough kisser for Lance? Was Lance overwhelmed or underwhelmed by it, and how was he supposed to know how fast to go…?

It wasn’t like he really ever considered how fast _he _wanted to go… he was more preoccupied with figuring out what Lance wanted from him. He knew that was probably a major factor in the bad mix of feelings he kept getting himself into, but… Keith wasn’t really used to asking himself what _he _wanted. Until he’d become friends with Lance, it had been a totally alien concept to him to even _consider _his feelings wherever a sense of duty was concerned. And, after all… Keith realized that he was sort of treating it like a duty, figuring out what Lance wanted and giving that to him. Not that he didn’t _want _to— not at all. It’d probably be a hell of a lot easier if he _didn’t _want to, so it wouldn’t be so complicated. But the what and when and _how _of all this was frustratingly hard to determine.

Occasionally he’d get past those thoughts for a moment, but always found himself coming back to the same old obstacles. Maybe eventually he’d work up the nerve to actually talk to Lance about this, to be totally and perfectly honest and they’d figure it out together. But a part of him felt like it was his responsibility to be able to make sense of this. After all, what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he needed help with something so fundamental to a relationship? Lance might think less of him in some ways, if he brought his worries up. _He _definitely thought less of himself for realizing how hard all this was for him.

Keith grumbled into his pillow, hiding himself under his sheets as though there was a physical manifestation of his insecurities he could just camouflage himself from. But this never _was _gonna be that easy, was it?

* * *

It wasn’t exactly easy to have a party when the vast majority of the school populace lived on grounds at the highly regimented and regulated Academy— but something had come up in many a whispered conversation between those worldly enough to know it. One of the girls in their year knew a guy, who knew a girl, who went to the civvie college in town and was having a _big_ party.

That wasn’t really something Keith was particularly observant towards; most of the time it felt like the social world amongst his classmates flew totally under his radar. His friends had to explain to him that, apparently, he was some kind of desirable to a lot of them. Keith didn’t understand why, or _want _to understand—he had no clue what it was that might make anyone think that way about him. But he nonetheless decided to make a conscious effort to pay a little more attention, and figure other people out a little better, maybe with more involvement and exposure. Like field research, or espionage.

When she’d invited Keith, he’d asked if he could bring anyone— casually, carefully. He didn’t want to raise suspicions.

She nodded with a hint of a smile that might have known more than Keith would’ve liked.

“If it’s McClain you wanna bring, go ahead, but you’ve gotta make sure he doesn’t start any _serious _fights.”

Keith nodded, feeling a little anxious at her guess. She didn’t _know_, right? They’d been careful. _Really _careful. But it _was _a well-known fact that for whatever reason, Cadet Kogane had some strange friends in stranger places.

* * *

The music was, in Keith’s opinion, pretty bad. And Lance had informed him that he had some terrible taste in music to begin with— at least they agreed on the house mix being less than satisfactory, and far too loud as well. 

It was a spectacle to see all the most upright and serious members of their class laughing and swearing so loud, making out on couches, playing drinking games. It was like they were trying to live out the lives of teenagers on movie screens, what kids like them could only assume normal, non-military adolescences were like, in the span of a single night. Sort of like those flowers that sprung up in vibrant colour on the desert floor with the rare rainstorm and faded away; they took all they could out of their rare moments of freedom and respite. But Keith couldn’t ease up just like that, and to his surprise, Lance wasn’t exactly turning out loose either.

“Sorry I dragged you here,” he whispered into Lance’s ear, fighting against the omnipresent noise to be heard. “I just wanted to see what it was like, but… I don’t think I could get used to this. I guess I’m bad at social stuff even outside of school.”

“Are _not_,” Lance frowned, not unfolding his arms. “You aren’t bad at anything, Keith. I don’t see much to like about it here, either.”

“We don’t have to stay,” Keith said quickly, feeling bad about getting Lance into this. “If you don’t like it.”

Lance shrugged. “Let’s get a few drinks in while we’re here. Watch people and complain about the music for a while.” He grinned for a moment. “I mean, it’s fun enough if I’m here with you.”

Keith smiled, feeling a little less lost in the bright lights and sounds already with an anchor in Lance’s strangely affectionate bluntness.

“Speaking of drinks,“ Lance continued, eyes darting across the room pointedly. “Let’s go get some before all the good ones are gone.”

When he lost Lance in the crowd as they headed toward the makeshift open bar, at least three classmates approached him for a dance. It felt strange to be shown desire this upfront, and Keith desperately hoped that his rejections came across more as gentlemanly than cold or, well… preoccupied with his main company of the night. He _had _been standing next to Lance nearly the whole time, even if they didn’t _do _anything.

He still let them tug at his arms, tried not to flinch or look uncomfortable. Chances were none of them would remember being so forward with him the next morning, anyways, and he certainly wouldn’t bring it up. When he finally made eye contact with Lance again, passing through a hallway with two drinks in hand, he looked a little entertained by the scene unfolding. Keith excused himself, passing by his admirers as quickly as possible, already hearing them dissect the interaction with each other in stage whispers.

“Somebody’s popular,” Lance grinned, with a drink in each hand. “I really can’t leave you alone, can I? Too bad I can’t tell ‘em that you’re taken.”

Keith’s heart leapt for a moment, jitters passing through his arm as Lance’s fingers brushed against him, passing him a red plastic cup full of shitty beer. They’d been together for a while now, but his touch still gave him that same electricity, even while he got more used to receiving it. He looked up and met eyes with Sven— he’s here too?— He was locked in conversation with both a boy and girl from their class, neither of whom Keith really knew, and he was apparently halfway into a double-score of sorts. Sven always managed to surprise Keith, no matter how much of his oddness he thought he had already gotten used to.

“Drink it while it’s cold,” Lance’s voice still came through clear from the din, the only clarity Keith had access to. “It only gets worse the warmer you let it get.”

Keith downed the beer, then refilled with some sugary cranberry thing that went down easy, but ended up hitting him hard by the time the cup was empty. He scanned the suddenly-blurry crowd for more familiar faces; the hostess came around, insisted he and Lance take a couple of tequila shots with her from hilariously tiny plastic goblets, then slurred a congratulations for Lance not killing anybody.

“Everyone’s so sociable tonight,” Lance murmured. “Even with me. That’s the magic of alcohol.”

Keith couldn’t think of a response. He leaned onto Lance, vaguely aware that they weren’t supposed to be _this _close in front of other people, and that was _his _rule, not Lance’s. But there was some kind of magnetism pulling him in, fingers looping around Lance’s belt to pull him closer, to keep a hold on him in the noisy blur of people-

“Let’s go outside,” He mumbled into Lance’s shoulder. “Sucks in here.”

Lance laughed, pulled an arm around his waist. “Yes, Sir.”

* * *

The side of the house by the kitchen door was empty, save for a few moths circling the dim yellow outdoor lights. They were finally, _finally_ alone.

Lance pulled his flask out from his jacket almost immediately. Sometimes Keith thought he called on it a little too often— they’d just been drinking inside, after all— but tonight was okay, he decided. They were celebrating their privacy, a moment’s respite away from the noise of everyone and everything else.

“I bet they miss you inside already.” Lance grinned, his cheeks flushed red and eyes dark and wild in the low light. “You know, a lot of them were probably hoping to get you alone.”

Keith pulled Lance against the wall, placed his hands onto his hips and pressed their faces against one another. “Too bad.”

Lance laughed quietly. “I’m the lucky winner tonight, huh?” He broke out of Keith’s grip long enough to take a swig, already looking more at ease than he had inside.

“I guess neither of us are party animals,” Keith said, leaning against the wall himself, taking the drink from Lance and attempting to drown the jitters he still had from being in the crowd inside. He felt his muscles become less tense, his mind less crowded with nervous thoughts about everything that could go wrong. Lance’s silhouette looked sort of fuzzy to him, but his face still distinct even in the low light. He didn’t feel like looking at anybody or anything else. “Let’s… let’s just stay out here for the rest of the night.”

“I’m not arguing with that.” Lance watched him drink bemusedly, still a little surprised to see him do something so uncharacteristic. Keith slid down against the wall until he sat on the ground, laughing at his own lack of balance, no longer feeling nervous or anxious about how many people were on the other side back in the house. It was alright- he and Lance had this moment for themselves. He stared upwards at the light, entranced, thinking of how funny it was for the moths to try and get at it so desperately; who knows why they even do that? He couldn’t stop grinning, no matter how stupid he knew his thoughts were.

“Hey,” Lance cut through the alcohol-induced fog on his brain with a careful, insistent whisper. He sounded like he wanted something— something Keith was more than willing to give. “Look at me.” 

Lance perched on top of him, straddling his legs and surrounding his field of vision, and Keith quickly forgot that anything else existed. Lance propped himself up with one hand on Keith’s shoulder, and another interlocking their fingers. Keith already felt warm and fuzzy from the alcohol, but having Lance this close was so many more kinds of warm, made him feel ways he was in no state to comprehend right now. All that mattered was that nobody was around out here to ruin this. Nobody around to see or hear…

“Lance, you’ve gotta know, I—“ Keith could feel the words not quite forming right as they rolled off his tongue, far too easily and fast to contain with his impaired reflexes, but he needed to say this. He felt a sudden urgency in holding onto Lance’s hand, terrified he’d pull it away. “I love you, Lance— God fuckin’ damn it, I _love—“_

A hand hastily clamped onto his mouth, and Lance looked kind of flustered. Keith couldn’t tell whether it was that he’d been getting too loud, or had he said something bad…?

“Quiet,” Lance instructed him gently. Keith obeyed, a little nervous in spite of the sedation from his evening's drinking. But Lance’s eyes quickly shifted focus back to his, and his hands elsewhere.

“I want you to…” he mumbled slowly, noses colliding as they tried to coordinate their faces together, taking a few moments to hold onto each other, explore with their mouths until they found a meeting place. “Keith, I want—“ 

He didn’t need to finish his sentence.

Kissing him before had been… not like_ this_. Keith had no reservations left, and even if he did, they’d dissolved in the cheap whiskey that burned down this throat. He leaned forward, held Lance by the waist, let him pull in closer in turn. He felt his motions just slightly off-kilter, his limbs slightly numb, but the tingling in his fingertips urged him to touch more and more and _more_.

He wanted Lance’s warmth; needed it desperately, seeking it with an open mouth. He traced a hand upward to hold onto his hair, suddenly feeling like he was afraid to lose his grip on him, on this moment that seemed too good and right and _perfect _to be true. Lance murmured in encouragement, and maybe amusement, reciprocating with some hidden message on his tongue. Keith could tell now that Lance’s teeth were surprisingly sharp— he didn’t mind.

When they separated— breathing heavily, in what felt like the atmosphere of a world for just the two of them— Lance grinned at him mischievously. “Didn’t think you had _that _in you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith could tell there was a slight slur to his words, an imbalance to his posture, but he didn’t care. Fuck it— nobody else was around, and even if they _were, _in that moment he couldn’t care less.

“Who would’ve thought,” Lance teased, fingers trailing on the back of his neck. “The Academy’s finest, caught up with a delinquent like this—“

Keith cut the sentence short with his mouth again on Lance's, kissing him fervently and maybe a little aggressively, like his life depended on the heat and the rhythm of Lance’s heartbeat echoing into him. How hadn’t he realized how_ badly_ he wanted this all night? Something he’d expended all his energy to restrain was expanding outwards, breaking out of whatever cage he kept it in. The feeling in his face was half-gone, but he could tell it was warm, probably incriminatingly red. He didn’t care.

Lance moved towards his touch like he was curious to see how far he’d go if he let him do whatever he wanted. There was a hint of a coy smile in his kiss, laughter in his throat. Keith wanted to drink it in while he had the chance, that fire within Lance that set his whole body aflame in turn.

His hand began to travel up Lance’s shirt without thinking, just feeling, following an instinct no longer buried under layers of carefully crafted repression—

Another hand pulled his off, gripped his fingers tentatively. “Keith— someone might come out and see us.” Lance’s protest was forced, said for Keith’s sake rather than his own. He was _right, _but did they really have to worry about that now?

“Maybe…” Keith could tell his words were coming out slow, jumbled, half-intelligible. “Maybe I don’t care.” 

Lance laughed. “You really _are _wasted. You’re not used to drinking this much, are you?”

“Pretty sure only you n’ maybe Sven _are_,” Keith muttered, withdrawing himself from their entanglement hesitantly. “Do we have to stop?”

Lance stood up ungracefully, pulled Keith to his feet, both of them still catching their breath. “Trust me, you’ll be glad we did in the morning when your paranoid side comes back.”

Keith huffed unhappily, but followed Lance’s lead anyways.

“Now, C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

The walk back to the dorms wasn’t that long, but it felt like an eternity. Lance— who had plenty of experience in holding his liquor— helped him stand upright, and kept him quiet as he picked the lock on the dormitory door. In the dead silence of the hallway, careful not to make a sound, Lance gave him one last good-night kiss that narrowly missed his mouth.

“Let’s do that again sometime,” he whispered before carefully disappearing down the hall.

When Keith finally collapsed on his bed, his heart was still beating furiously, head spinning and body buzzing with excitement.

_Jesus. What did I just do?_

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning until his cheeks hurt. It had felt so good not to care about who else might be watching or judging, to completely let go of his anxieties like that and just let himself _feel _what to do. He could start to see why Lance kept that flask around.

* * *

Lance’s head was buzzing from more than last night’s alcohol as he strained not to give awayevidence of his misbehaviour during morning drills— _when’s my painkiller gonna kick in? _He finished his last prescribed lap and tried to refocus himself with his stretches, finally relaxing as the pressure in his skull eased when the medication began to work. At least, the pressure dissipated _physically; _mentally, not so much.

His memories got a little foggy, as he’d overindulged even for his _own _tolerance levels at the party— a mixture of discomfort at the socialization and a desire to maybe help Keith follow his lead and loosen up. Why was that…? 

He knew, but didn’t entirely accept it. He’d wanted to get over his _own _nerves as much as to get Keith over his, to break through the fears and insecurities he still held about showing physical vulnerability to even the person he trusted the most in the universe. He’d opened up emotionally, both of his own free volition and as a matter of circumstance, and never regretted it… it wasn’t like he didn’t start nearly all of their more physical encounters _himself, _either. But _starting _and _keeping up _were very, very different. He knew what he wanted to do with Keith, and yet… some ghost haunting him in the back of his mind, the cold tingle in his spine, always urged him to put his guard up and back off. 

Well… it was hardly unusual for kids who’d experienced things like him to be avoidant and anxious, the therapist he’d had back at the institute told him as much. So maybe he ought to ask someone who’d gotten over these particular roadblocks for advice… someone who had, as far as Lance knew, no reservations about physicality whatsoever.

“Hey, Sven— can I talk to you for a minute? I need your advice.”

Sven gestured for him to take a seat next to him on the bench, thankfully the most isolated one from the rest of the student body— well out of earshot.

“What on?”

“On…” _Don’t make me say it out loud, _Lance grumbled internally, even though he _knew _it was pretty dumb and immature not to want to just be explicit about it. “…Sex, I guess.”

Sven laughed, and Lance was regretting his choice already. “You’re sure you want advice from _me?_ It probably won’t be very good— I can’t stop being a slut for five minutes, after all.”

He remembered that insult? Lance felt his stomach sink in guilt. He hadn’t really thought through how that might make Sven feel to say… then again, he had a bad habit of saying whatever hurtful thing came to mind when he felt threatened. “Look, I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have said that, Sven.” He had trouble bringing himself to meet Sven’s eyes with the regret that overwhelmed him. “It doesn’t make it okay, but… I only said that ‘cause I got nervous. And because I wish I was as… laid back as you are.”

“I’m glad you think of me that way,” Sven grinned. “But it takes a lot of work to stay this laid-back.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Well, tell me how you make it _look _easy, at least.”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Keith— practice makes perfect. You can get used to anything, and eventually you’ll even get good at it.”

So he’d talked to Keith about…? Lance felt a jolt of unplaceable anxiety in his spine.

“But how do you…” Lance bit the inside of his cheek in frustration, not sure how to word this. “…how do I stop feeling like I’ve got to keep my guard up all the damn time?”

Sven smiled. “I’ll let you know when I get there.”

Lance realized immediately that his questions weren’t going to be answered as neatly and cleanly as he’d hoped— not that it had ever been a reasonable hope, with Sven. What the hell did he even _mean? _“Okay, fine, _be _mysterious about it.”

“I’m not withholding any secrets from you, Lance; I really don’t think I have anything to offer you. You and Keith are— well, I’ve never _had— _” Sven’s expression was laced with something a little icy and a little jagged, which always made Lance wary; it just didn’t look right with his trademark easygoing handsomeness. “I’m not one for anything… _long-term. _So with your situation— as far as I’m concerned, you’ve already put your guard down further than I ever have, or intend to.”

It came across differently than his usual teasing, casually intrusive observations or even a plain insult. There was something akin to envy in his voice, all the more obvious for that artificial lightness in its tone. It made Lance angry— was Sven judging him? Did he think that he was a dumbass for trying to have something serious? After all, it wasn’t like Lance didn’t wonder about that himself… whether he’d just made things worse for Keith in the long run, letting him get closer and closer to the ticking time bomb that was his heart, if he could stop it from blowing up in his face. 

But even if it was true that Lance had made a serious mistake, and that he’d regret this … he had no interest in hearing about it from Sven. He got to his feet abruptly and walked away from Sven without another word, too mad at him for all the questions he’d raised when all Lance wanted were _answers. _He’d figure this out for himself— at maximum speed, full acceleration, cutting the brakes if he had to. That _was_ his go-to method for dealing with difficult and strong emotions.

He found Keith in the obstacle course, apparently having handled last night’s drinking pretty well. As he scaled the final wall in the exercise, he noticed Lance and jumped down to his level.

“I’m guessing no hangover,” Lance said as Keith took the maneuver gracefully, not even making much of a sound when he landed. “Judging by your athletic performance.”

Keith smiled at the complement. “Well, a little, but I’m working through it.”

That was Keith, alright— hiding whatever was wrong so well that nobody would guess. “Sorry I didn’t try to hold you back a little; you’re not used to that amount of drinking.”

“It’s okay… It was kinda worth it,” The shimmer in Keith’s eyes when he said that, and the hint of red in his cheeks that was from more than just his training… he’d appreciated the chance to let go, after all. Even if it _did _end up taking place entirely independently of the party. “At least I know my limit, now.”

Speaking of limits… Lance wanted to figure out how to get rid of those. A good starting place would be the total, secure privacy that they couldn’t count on last night.

“Hey— can you come by my room after classes tonight? There’s… something I wanna talk about.”

* * *

Well, this didn’t involve quite as much _talking _as Keith had anticipated… not that he was complaining. 

“I want you, Keith.”

He wasn’t sure how he should respond, felt his mind get lost in a fog of ideas that flustered him, forcing him to turn away. Lance huffed and tugged on his hair to get his attention back.

“I’m not scared of it,” he insisted agitatedly and unprompted, out of what felt like nowhere. Lance’s face was flushed, with his hair lying around it in a ruddy halo. His hand traced down Keith’s neck, down to his spine. “Of, y’know, fucking.”

Hearing him _say _it like that, so explicitly and bluntly… Keith bit his lip, unable to formulate a response besides the instinctual urge to just take his word and comply with whatever it was Lance wanted_. _The _rest _of his body knew what it wanted without his mind having to inform.

His startled expression must’ve elicited that smug grin on Lance’s face; he moved his leg just a little, satiating himself with the small noise he got back. He seemed determined to wear down Keith’s quiet reservedness with each move. Keith retaliated with a well-positioned squeeze of the hand. “I didn’t _say _you were. And don’t call it that.”

“What, _fucking? _What d’you want me to call it?” Keith could _hear _Lance smirking even as his face disappeared into the crook of his neck, wrestling him down and climbing on top of him. “Let’s see- Horizontal tango? Doing the deed? _Lo-oovemaking?” _

Keith shut him up with a tug on the hair and a forceful kiss, desire overpowering embarrassment. “Shh.”

They moved carefully and slowly for a while, some thought caught in the air between them until it became too big to ignore.

Lance fell to Keith’s side abruptly, his expression shifting into something even more unreadable than usual. He bit his lip, brushed Keith’s hair behind his ear, looking like he was getting ready to say something.

They watched each other silently for a moment, the only sound being that of their breathing becoming slower and quieter as they came back to reality.

“I’m nervous and I don’t know why.” 

Lance spoke rapidly, stiltedly. He looked away, the way he did when he was trying to decide how much he wanted to say. “I just— I don’t know! I mean, I trust _you—_ that’s not it,” His eyes caught Keith’s, but couldn’t seem to stay still. “Do _you?_ I mean, d’you feel nervous?”

Keith nodded slowly, a little stunned still by Lance’s ability to be so completely and totally honest when he decided he wanted to be. It made him feel so much more comfortable about allowing himself the luxury of thinking through his _own _feelings.

“I guess I am. I was trying not to think about it.”

Keith found it difficult to deal with the conflicting parts of him that emerged whenever he and Lance came into contact; the urge to retreat and repress his desires as he’d always believed he ought to, and the way Lance broke all those walls down and pulled him in.

But nonetheless— he’d gladly navigate through these uncharted, frustrating, tumultuous feelings if it was for _him._

“It’s so stupid,” Lance muttered, brows furrowed and face red like he was trying his damndest not to get embarrassed about something, but ultimately losing the battle. “I thought this was supposed to be easy. But I keep thinking about, I dunno, what happens if— when we’re _done _and you decide I’m not worth the trouble and—” His eyes widened, and he hastily burrowed himself under a pillow. “—_Fuck_. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Keith felt the gears in his brain grind to a halt. He lay stunned, searching amidst the hundreds of options for what to say to best convey what he meant, what he _felt, _but it escaped him. He gingerly reached for and took Lance’s hand under his own, felt a shiver in response to his touch.

“Hey,” He struggled to form words and yet, something was coming off his tongue all on its own. “Lance.” He pulled the pillow away and pressed his forehead against Lance’s to force him to pay attention, feeling a little like a dog biting at his heels.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Hmm.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“Well…” Lance sighed and leaned into Keith’s touch. “It’s a nice thought.” There was a note of bitter laughter to his voice.

What frustrated Keith more than anything else about Lance was how there were these unsolvable problems, things he just couldn’t figure out how to work with, this attitude he clung to that made him brush off whatever Keith tried to convince him of with sarcasm and doubt. Why couldn’t he just believe him? What was he doing _wrong?_

“I can keep saying it until you accept it.” Keith felt an unwelcome tremor show up in his voice. “I’m not trying to make you say it back, I just—“

“—But I do.” Lance interrupted him tersely with a suggestion of anger in his tone. Keith held his breath without meaning to.

“…Love you, I mean. I _do_.” Lance’s words came slower in the second burst. His anger didn’t seem to be directed outwardly, but rather inwards. Keith could recognize that biting, self-depreciating tone he took when he spat venom at himself in his darker moods; he couldn’t _not _notice something he hated so much. “I should’ve said that a while ago, huh?”

Keith was still stuck in pause mode, unblinking and forgetting to breathe as he tried to digest what had been said to him. 

Lance tucked his head down onto Keith’s shoulder. “I don’t know why that was so hard to spit out. Sorry.”

Words still eluded Keith’s grasp, as desperately as he wanted to say something- _anything_, just enough to communicate the pit of fire that was growing in his chest, some emotion too large and hostile to name. There wasn’t anything he could think of that would come out right. Besides, it felt like there was something more that Lance wanted to say, and one wrong word or move now would make him shy away from it again.

“I’m scared you’ll change your mind. I don’t want to look like an idiot who got blindsided by his feelings, and— and I know you haven’t given me a _reason _to think that, I just can’t let it go.”

Lance was letting the cracks in his armour show. Letting it disintegrate. Keith felt something within himself break down, too.

“I’m scared too,” Keith whispered, feeling something drain out of his heart, like there was a wound that was bleeding all his feelings out and showed no intention of closing. “I really don’t want to screw this up. I’m terrified of losing you, Lance, and—“ He blinked and swallowed shakily, wondering where all this was being stirred up from. “—I know we can’t just _be _together like this forever, I can’t even dream about it and I hate it, I _hate it— _but I’m never gonna stop feeling this way about you. Never.”

He felt completely drained, sick with sadness and anger at the universe and himself. Lance chuckled, wiped his eyes.

“This fucking sucks, huh?”

“Yeah, it does.” Keith kissed the top on Lance’s head. “Still love you, though.”

“Okay.”

Lance shifted in Keith’s arms, pushed more weight against him in what felt like his own particular sort of affectionate gesture.

“What?”

“I believe you.” 

He sounded like he was smiling, exhausted as Keith was but still refusing to get pulled down into resignation. It gave Keith a new spark of energy, some sort of _hope _to hang onto in spite of himself and his family and everything he knew about their future.

“Good,” Keith replied hoarsely, throat burning from all the feelings he couldn’t choke down. “Don’t forget it.”


	19. Interlude - Elsewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters are a little different, maybe too confusing, but in time I'll redraft them into "just confusing enough to get the theme/message across". It's been too long, anyways, and first drafts are never perfect- might as well open it up to large-scale judgement!

“Allura, what are you doing?”

She didn’t respond, having barely heard the question as she ran across the cracked marble tiles. Her mind was on one track and one alone.

Coran seemed to have been concerned enough to run after her; finally, she relented in her hunt for long enough for him to ask again.

“Slow down, my dear. Tell me what’s going on so that I can help.”

Allura sighed. “Would you help me find my father’s cape brooch? The one he wore on his coronation cape in the photos,” she detailed, struggling not to speak too fast in her excitement. “I want to try wearing it on my jacket so that I can feel closer to him.”

Coran’s eyebrows furrowed as he searched his memories for what Allura spoke of, before nodding. “ Yes, I remember it.” He seemed like he meant to say more, before thinking better of it. “But… I’m not so sure that it’s worth your while to look for it, Princess. Those old things… it won’t make you feel better to have them, though it might seem like it would.”

But she was determined. In her memories, it was a glittering star, a beacon of light, the gold and blue crystal meaning far more to her than mere ornamentation. It represented all beauty and goodness, and her father’s guidance. Once she felt its weight in her hands again, she was certain that all would feel well.

“Princess, running isn’t ladylike— and barefoot! You could cut your feet on something on the floor!” A familiar, slightly shrill voice made Allura bristle with frustration. “Where are your slippers?“

“Nanny, please!” Allura tried not to sound too exasperated, lest she receive another long-winded lecture about the importance of these lessons of her Nanny’s. “I’m on a quest. I’m looking for my father’s cape brooch— have you seen it?”

The woman’s stern, somewhat nervous expression softened. She spoke quietly now, more to herself than to Allura. “Hmm. It’s good of you to appreciate those mementos of his glorious reign— Gods rest his soul.” She looked at Allura a bit more gently, this time. “Well, I understand why you’d want… anyhow. Just make sure you finish your studies before supper.”

Allura took the chance to flee, and continue on her hunt unpreturbed by the adults. Faintly, she heard behind her a conversation between Nanny and Coran that she supposed she wasn’t meant to hear—

_ ‘…It’s only been a year, poor thing…’  _

_ ‘…Can’t expect her to act entirely in order after that…’ _

_ ‘…She misses him even more terribly than we do…’ _

It had been a year already? Allura couldn’t say she’d had the firmest grip on the passing of time since the war began, and even less so since the day Coran had told her of her father’s passing.

She’d only just started to accept her mother’s death, when her father was taken from her as well. There was no comfort to be found outside of the now eerily empty-feeling castle, either. As the palisades were worn away to rubble, invading forces hunting for the fabled relics of Voltron they’d come to claim, all of the surviving Arusian civilians were hiding away in caves and makeshift bunkers. There were hardly any adults for Allura to talk to, and certainly no children.

At least the mice were alright. One of them approached her feet and looked up at her with what seemed like more empathy than a robotic life form ought to, beckoned her to bend down and pick it up. It chittered in a manner she found comforting, and she allowed herself a small smile as she stroked its chrome head.

“Would you like to help me with my quest, little one?”

It blinked at her knowingly, before scampering out of her grip and running down the halls into a wing of the castle that Allura did not often visit. She took it as a gesture to follow along, and carefully avoided the broken pieces of stained glass windows as she hurried after it.

The mouse led her to a small, unimpressive-looking cabinet, at the back of what must have been their treasury. It gnawed at the lock until it came undone, and Allura stepped forward to pull open the drawer with a strange mix of both eagerness and trepidation.

Yes, it was here. But…

It wasn’t cracked or damaged, no. And yet it didn’t shine as brightly as it did in her memory. Somehow, it had seemed far more impressive when it was so high above her reach on her father’s shoulder, when she could only catch a glimpse of it from where she stood far below its height.

Had it been worth it to find it once more, just to realize that it wasn’t at all the way she’d expected it to be? It would have been better to have left it as a memory only half-real, the other half made more beautiful and glorious by fantasy.

Maybe Coran was right. She returned the brooch to its box, and closed the drawer. She had studies to return to, anyhow.


	20. Eternity

He hated coming here, but that was exactly what was motivating him to stand in this sharply lit alcove right now. The beams overhead and glow of holoscreens felt like searchlights, and the eyes in the portraits in all directions as though they’d noticed his presence, already detected him as an unwelcome intruder. Not really one of them, and never going to be.

Keith suppressed a shudder, wondering immediately after why he was trying to look more confident than he felt without an audience; after all, not a living soul stood alongside him here in the hall demarcating the Kogane’s legacy. But he didn’t feel entirely alone and unsupervised, rather more like he was standing in front of a suspicious and judgemental audience.

It was a long, dark chasm that separated him from the main body of the building as he stood, the light reflecting on the floor tiles like mirrors that created an illusion of eternity— as though if he kept walking, he’d trace his family all the way back to the beginning of time. Maybe then, he could figure out where _this— _where all that was wrong with him had come from.

There already was a place prepared for his parents, and presumably him as well. Unless, of course, something would cut that high path marked out for him short…

Some way out. But for now, all that Keith could see were cold blue lights reflecting down a black corridor.

_“Have you done your training exercises and study block?”_

_Keith nodded, taking great care to keep his back straight. “Yes, Sir.”_

_He’d earned a small, reserved smile from his father. “That’s my boy.”_

_The Major’s large white eyebrows furrowed, and he glanced at Keith from the vantage point of his coffee cup. “You’re too hard on the poor kid, Akira.”_

_His father laughed, and it took great effort not to flinch. “You say that now, but he’ll be thankful that we didn’t spare any effort with him once he’s a successful, perfectly-equipped officer.” He looked over at Keith again, seemingly content with him for the time being. “You can go outdoors until dinner.”_

_“Thank you, Sir.” Keith bowed his head slightly and left as quickly as he was able without seeming rude. It would’ve been harder to get away if his mother hadn’t been visiting his grandparents— and the rest of the illustrious Sohna clan— in Karachi, but luckily it’d be a few more days until she returned. _

_Keith was exhausted, but he’d finally earned himself a small slice of freedom; he’d climb up the hill out back and enjoy the peace and quiet for a while. His parents were still busy with the guest, so they were less aware of him than usual— Keith was grateful for the impromptu visitor. He slid out the door as quietly as possible and ran for the trail._

_It was nice to be alone; sometimes Keith was sad he didn’t get to spend time with other kids his age outside of organized activities, but then again, it always had felt like those kids didn’t really want him around. He knew he wasn’t good at making friends, so he probably couldn’t even if he was allowed to. Still, there were things worthwhile to do even all alone._

_He sat at the edge of the gigantic lawn leading up to the spaceport, and a sense of heaviness lifted from his shoulders. Maybe one day, that’d be him… he’d be free. Even if only for a little bit, and he still had to come back and do what he knew he was supposed to with his life— if he could just touch the infinite freedom of outer space for a moment, he might know what it really meant to be happy._

_Keith was tired. Not just physically, but mentally as well._

_It was at times like this that he thought about…_

_No, he couldn’t do that. Where would he go, anyways? Where could he run away to that he’d be truly free… nowhere on Earth, that much he was certain of. Besides— just getting away was meaningless. He could do that anytime; it’s not like they’d come looking for him when he’d disgraced them by running away like a deserter. The rejection was its own punishment._

_It… just wasn’t an option. Not for now._

“Hey, you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Keith shrugged, keenly aware of how closely Lance was watching him— still making a futile attempt to play off his anxiety. “I guess I’m just tired.”

“Well…” A casual, brief brush of Lance’s hand that transferred as a flutter of Keith’s heart. “Can I help?”

“I, um…” It made him feel stupid and childish, how quickly his throat closed up as he grasped for sufficiently meaningful words. He knew he’d have to give Lance some grain of truth, God knows he can’t lie to him on the best of days… “I guess I need to get my mind off this whole… future thing. For a little while.”

A gentle but still sad expression of recognition was painfully noticeable on Lance’s face. “Hey, I don’t want to think about it either.” Just as fast as the look of sadness came, it passed— and the deliberate brightness in Lance’s voice returned. “Well, we can distract each other, right?”

Keith realized just how much effort Lance was putting into this, into pulling him up from his dark spells— and it crushed him with guilt, to put that much of a burden onto him. It just wasn’t fair.

“Yeah.” He smiled despite himself as Lance touched the side of his face, pulling him in for a kiss reassuring enough that he could almost forget what he’d been so worried about.

Almost.

_“To finish for today, we’ll be performing a field exercise in pairs; you and your deskmate will spar using the medium-weight batons. The goal is to focus on technique, so don’t become preoccupied with who knocks down whom; and remember the rules for sparring, as any violations will be penalized severely.”_

_It was already the latter half of the afternoon classes, and most of the students were itching for the semi-freedom of their dormitories and common-rooms, whether to chat or play contraband video games or to simply get out of the stiff uniforms. The Templeton Junior Preparatory Academy was hardly known for coddling its students, after all— that _was _why most of the student body was here, either to straighten out a child wayward of their family’s high standing, or to keep straight those already well-behaved. _

_There was also the draw of its hard-to-come-by religious element, something very few schools and even fewer military prep academies had anymore. Keith’s parents were hardly any kind of religious, but they appreciated the element for its utility in the greater purposes of Keith’s education here; structure, discipline, strict enforcement of order and obedience to authority. The exact kind of place they’d keep him when they were off in their field missions elsewhere. The exact place that Keith had been for the last year, and exactly akin to the other five academies he’d been living in since he was six years old. By now, Keith had gotten used to it, at at least as used to it as a twelve-year-old could. But he didn’t really _feel _twelve. It was hard to feel young at all after all this._

“_You’ve got one hell of a match coming your way, Kogane.” The boy across from Keith smirked at him, and he knew that it was meant as a challenge; at this point in the school year he’d had time to gather the information to put together why he acted like that. He hadn’t meant to antagonize him, but apparently it had been inevitable; there was a girl that he liked, who liked Keith. And the reason for the strange way his peers had been acting would’ve eluded him, if another classmate hadn’t bluntly said so to his face. He didn’t know why it mattered so much, but for what it was worth, he didn’t know why his self-declared rival would even think him a threat… he was what Keith considered attractive, and even when he glared Keith thought that his eyes were nice._

_Keith didn’t need to reply. He remained fixed in posture, in expression, at attention and in line. His father had once told him, a good officer is like his ship; if any detail is less than perfect, if not meticulously maintained and with everything in its right place at any given moment, the only possible outcomes are failure and disaster. Keith stuck to that teaching, and it kept him in that always-tenuous state of approval from his parents. _

_He stayed silent perhaps a little too long— maybe it had come across as haughty or standoffish, since that smirk changed to a scowl. Or maybe it was the staring that Keith hadn’t meant to do, but… he’d realized, just now, that maybe he’d been looking at this boy the way that the girl had been looking at him, and it was an uncomfortable revelation._

_“What, am I not important enough to talk to for a high n’ mighty Kogane?”_

_“Sorry,” Keith mumbled. “I was… Well, let’s give it our best shot.”_

_His partner didn’t really spar so much as fight, apparently intent on flirting with a serious disciplining if he overstepped the line that he was toeing. Keith focused on dodging, using his baton to keep him a safe distance away; not only safe from his landing a blow, but also safe from those risky moments of contact that made his heart jump and stomach turn in a strange and uncomfortable way. He willed himself to focus entirely on the technique— Dodge, parry, thrust, turn, keep focus and empty your mind of everything else. He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to win until the instructor was congratulating him on his excellent form, and his opponent was on the mats looking up furiously at him._

_“Great work as always, Kogane.” The instructor patted him on his shoulder, while across the room, that girl who apparently liked him gave a beaming smile. Keith looked away guiltily from her and the boy, and those feelings he knew the inverse of what they were supposed to be. He knew that by next year he’d be in another academy across the planet, and it couldn’t happen fast enough— but somehow, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to outrun this… flaw, of his._

“Where’re you going?” Sven called out after Keith from his bunk, poking his head out curiously. “There’s supposed to be a thunderstorm soon, you know."

“Just out for a run before it rains,” Keith replied hurriedly, fumbling to get his boots and jacket on quickly, not entirely sure himself of why he was rushing so much— like there was something he needed to get to that he wasn’t consciously aware of yet. “It’s pretty nice and cool out right now.”

“Well, I’ll probably be gone by the time you’re back, so don’t forget your datacard. The Iris-ID systems have been glitching out recently, and I won’t be there to let you in.”

“Got it.”

Keith didn’t want to admit to himself why he avoided looking at Sven as he left their dorm. He slipped away and down the hall, giving no time for a final curious glance that might read whatever it was that Keith couldn't _himself_ accept that he was thinking about.

He wondered if maybe, just maybe, Lance had the same thing on his mind.

* * *

“Hey, where’re you going?” Pidge looked up from his dungeon-master’s journal for only a moment, glasses glinting in the late afternoon light coming in through the window. 

Lance was already slipping his shoes on, hoping his voice didn’t sound too strange. “I think I’m head outside for a little while— I want to get some fresh air.”

Actually, he was hoping that he might catch Keith outside tonight, since he’d mentioned looking forward to the few desert storms that came every year and made all the wildflowers bloom. It wasn’t _that _weird of a thing to admit, and certainly not something he needed to keep secret, and yet Lance felt as though he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

“Really? You’re going out for a walk the _one_ day of the year that it’s guaranteed to rain here?” Not even giving him a second look up from his journal, Lance could only see half of an annoyed scowl behind the book. “Well, don’t come back dripping all over the floor in our room if you get wet. You can do that in Sven and Keith’s.”

So he didn’t even need to give an excuse for disappearing tonight— that was lucky. But he just had to keep being casual…

“Hmmph, fine.” 

Lance closed the door behind him, took a deep breath, and struggled to resist the urge to sprint— eager to get out of the building and have some more breathing space.

_“Dad— what’s the road out of the valley lead to, anyways?”_

_Ulan’s father smiled serenely, reclining against the old, grey-barked poplar. “Well, there’s a fairly large city at the river’s mouth. Probably the biggest settlement anywhere on this world.”_

_“Have you ever been there?” The boy’s eyes widened with the imagined possibilities for this far-off place, of which he knew nothing besides that it was big._

_“A long time ago, yes. But it wasn’t worth the trouble to go to, if you ask me.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because it’s just another spaceport town,” his father muttered bitterly. Ulan was confused by what could be so bad about that; then again, he had no idea what ‘spaceport’ meant. “It’s full of nothing but soldiers and imperial envoys looking to take this or that. The Drule drop by to refuel, and then they go off again. It could be far worse, though; we could be stuck under the Alliance’s thumb.”_

_“Who’s that?”_

_“Not who, but what. The Alliance is the fist that grasps at whatever planet it can for resources and soldiers, shakes it out, then goes off again. They send their peacekeepers around sometimes,” His father’s voice turned slightly venomous for a moment, before returning to a more peaceful state. “But you should know what they’re really here for, Ulan. However little the Drule soldiers deserve your trust, the Alliance’s soldiers deserve even less.”_

_Ulan was glad that his father was finally willing to talk to him about serious, grown-up matters; he’d been annoyed at how nobody ever wanted to explain what was going on around him, even when it was obvious that something was, whether it was the sudden surge in soldiers going through the valley or the reason why his mother was practically ostracized by the village for her appearance. But it was all a little much to take in right now._

_“So… you think that the soldiers are all bad, then?” He frowned, resting his chin on his knees and trying to see if he could spot that great city somewhere in the distant blue of the horizon. _ _“I thought it seemed like an alright life, if you get to fly ships and go to distant worlds…”_

_His father smiled at him, looking a little sad all the same. “I know it sounds nice, Ulan. But you have to trust me when I tell you that there’s nothing out there worthwhile to risk yourself chasing. Whether you lose your life in battle, or you lose your soul to the way that soldiers live. They live by killing and harming and destroying, that’s what they’re trained for, and eventually they forget everything else. You could never be like them, my boy.” He sounded a little like he was reassuring himself, just then._

_A gentle breeze rolled down the slope of the mountains, into the valley where Ulan’s entire life before and ahead of him lay. But was that really all?_

_He lay back onto the grass, head amidst the sweet smell of new grass and wildflowers, and stared into the open blue sky. He was still curious, still liked to dream about it. But it wasn’t worth it, if the only way to find out was to lose his soul. No, he’d never become a soldier._

Lying on the solitary cool patch of rock that wasn’t being bombarded by midday sunlight, Lance stared up at the infinite blue and imagined where he might end up in the next couple of years. He might get stationed here on Earth for a while— not his preferred choice, but it could be worse. More likely, he’d be command on some mission to an allied world for peacekeeping, or reconnaissance for a particular target world for colonization. He didn’t particularly look forward to any of his options, but at least he’d get to fly amongst the stars, to taste the feeling of complete freedom from anything and anyone’s gravity.

Anyone…

Where would his friends end up?

It wasn’t likely they’d all be in one unit, or even in any units with one another; they were typically stratified with recruits from all over, modelling their future work environments in the interest of a more practical educational process. But it wasn’t like one year would drive them apart— he thought, he hoped. They could keep in touch, most of the bases and training centres didn’t even censor your mail, his friends would still be within reach to some extent. Yet one thing Lance _did _have a particularly sinking feeling about, that he couldn’t dare voice, was…

He thought about all the other options that’d be unfolding in front of Keith— infinitely better options, and a generous amount of distance.

_Ulan surveyed the site with dismay. The shelter had, as usual, become dilapidated over the course of the winter- snow had caved in the sod roof, and the floor was littered with leaves and debris left by animals waiting out snowstorms. This year, though, he was old enough to fix it without anyone else’s help. He started by clearing up the mess, then dragging and rearranging the stones to prop up the grass ceiling before he’d be able to dig a piece of the meadow out and put it on top. It wasn’t quick work, but it felt good to be able to do a grown-up job all on his own._

_“Ulan! Do you need any help?”_

_Chirac was passing on the trail, taking her ox up— probably to retrieve some ice from the glacier to bring back to the village. Ulan was annoyed at her for interrupting his pleasant solitude; why’d other kids always assume he wanted to talk to them if he wasn’t doing anything?_

_“Nope.”_

_She frowned at him sharply. “Is that all you’re gonna say to me? You’re never anything but grouchy.”_

_“So why do you keep coming up here to bother me?”_

_“Hmmph. At the rate you’re going, nobody will ever wanna marry you when you grow up.”_

_“Well, I don’t want to get married. So, no loss for me.”_

_Chirac seemed incredulous, her black braids swinging back as she leaned closer in disbelief. “But then who’ll help you around the house, and with chores and stuff?”_

_“I can handle it on my own,” Ulan replied, already returning to his work and intent on ignoring Chirac until she went away. “I don’t need anybody else."_

_“Whatever,” Chirac scoffed, finally giving up on the conversation. “You’re boring and rude, anyways.”_

_Ulan didn’t look up again until he was sure she’d went on her way. If he was lucky, nobody else would pass by for the rest of the day, and he could enjoy the calm spring afternoon as he’d intended to._

_This pasture was one of the first in the year to grow in, and it usually stayed pretty clean— still, Ulan set about inspecting it for any signs of plants that might poison the flock. One year he’d seen nearly every lamb die after their mothers consumed some new toxic flower; they’d been strong enough to survive it, but their unweaned offspring weren’t. His sister had cried for days over them. Still, it wasn’t as bad as the year where something had caused them to be born with missing eyes…_

_Finally, things looked about right for him to take a break to eat. Unwrapping his sandwich, Ulan sat beneath the tall conifer that always smelled pleasantly like resin in the sunlight._

_Lying down here, it was tempting to take a nap; but Ulan wanted to remain vigilant, to prove to his family he could handle taking out the flock just like an adult could. It was unlikely any wolves or lions would emerge from the forest at this hour, but still…_

_Watching the clouds drift by, Ulan wondered why anyone would ever want to settle down in a town, anyways. Living out here in the wilderness, beholden to nothing and nobody, was the only way he ever wanted to live when he grew up._

It wasn’t something he’d ever want to bring up, knowing how stupid and pathetic and insecure he’d look. And he knew he’d look that way, because, well— he _was. _

When Lance stood beside Keith in public, he remembered to do it with a respectable distance between them. but even as his mind was on the conversation at hand, his body ached to bridge the gap and make contact with him. It was something he’d started feeling long ago, even when they were just friends, even when he hadn’t had a clue what this feeling _was. _

His past self would’ve been dismayed with him for what he’d become— maybe even disgusted with him, for this amongst many other reasons— though it wasn’t like it had ever been a choice. But even if it had been… Lance knew that he’d make it again and again. It was worth any hurt that came of it, or would come of it… that he was certain of.

He’d been way, way, _way _too lucky for far too long. It was the kind of thing that happened only in fairy tales… having someone like Keith in his life at all, then become his best friend, then…

What would it feel like to lose this? Unthinkable pain wasn’t unfamiliar to Lance. But not all pain was created equal. No two wounds ever felt exactly the same.

_“How’re you holdin’ up, kid?” _

_The man approaching him at bench outside the med bay looked earnest, though Ulan was hardly in any state to pay any attention. His mind was in many places, none of them here, and the only thing he was focused on was remaining unfocused on…_

_“I’ll be watching over you for the rest of the long haul back to Earth,” he continued as though he understood that Ulan wasn’t up to talking; it was a sort of relief, after the last few adults trying to make some stupid lighthearted conversation with him before giving up with a pitiful look, deciding him too broken to carry on with. “Your translator chip is up and running, so as long as you’re understanding me I’ll be able to understand you, too. But don’t worry, I won’t try and make you tell me anything you don’t want t’say.”_

_Ulan continued staring ahead silently, his thoughts unfocused and his mind so far from his body that he felt as if he were halfway a ghost. The man gave him a smile that landed with real sincerity, which caught Ulan off guard. Nonetheless, he flinched as the man sat down beside him._

_“I’m just going to be going through some reports, paperwork and all that nonsense— I might have to ask you for some of the answers later, but we can always finish them another time if you don’t feel up to it.” He looked away for a moment as though he were pondering a difficult question, before turning back to their one-sided conversation. “Shoot, nearly forgot to introduce myself— I’m Lieutenant Thomas McClain, but y’can just call me Tom. What should I call you?”_

_Ulan didn’t answer, and the soldier seemed not to mind. In fact, he didn’t even seem surprised._

_“Well, I’ll be right here if y’need anything.”_

_He seemed not so old as to be fatherly— more like an older brother. Which was good, because in that moment Ulan couldn’t have stood to see anything resembling a father. Still, he didn’t want to think of him as a first name for a while. Just as the soldier McClain, who happened to be standing over him for now._

_How long had he been here since…? He didn’t know, and didn’t really want to know. Based on the routine check-ups, though, it must have at least been a week._

_Ulan curled up in his ill-fitting makeshift clothing, burrowing his arms into his sleeves and shivering. He wanted to go back to his cot and to find a way to enter unconsciousness again, every moment of this intolerable. _

_“You look cold,” The McClain man was speaking to him again, and it pulled Ulan out of his dark fog of painful thoughts. A heavy weight suddenly draped over his shoulders, yet it was more comforting than oppressive; McClain was giving him his jacket. “Try this on— y’can hold onto it, by the way.”_

_Pulling it more tightly around him, it felt almost like a protective cocoon. Something to shield him against this new nightmare-world unfurling all around him, and from every ghost and demon and memory._

_McClain’s presence next to him wasn’t unwelcome, didn’t keep him on edge. Maybe it was just the exhaustion of being on high alert every waking moment he’d been here— but Ulan felt himself drifting off to sleep right there on the bench, wrapped in the only thing protecting him from the rest of the universe._

Something in the corner of Lance’s eye pulled him out of his head and into the present moment— was that…?

He sat up, looking across to where the rust-coloured earth met the rapidly darkening blue of the increasingly cloudy sky. He was pretty far off, but Lance could recognize him anywhere.

It gave him a rush of energy, made him feel almost frantic to catch up with him. Climbing to his feet and jumping off the rock, Lance lost track of every thought in his head besides that silhouette on the horizon.

* * *

There was no suggestion of it in the morning, the sky as clear and bright a shade of blue as ever. But by now, there was a darkening greyish cast on the horizon, blending with its colour to create a deep azure that made the sandstone cliffs and mountains in the distance stand out all the more brightly. The shrubs and cacti seemed to nearly glow with anticipation of the rare rainstorm they were about to receive, and Keith swore he could feel the earth below his feet course with energy. He felt something akin to that, too, as he met Lance’s eyes and saw the same eager nervousness he was suddenly overcome with. Words were hard to find and form, but Lance made it easier for him as he took Keith’s hand tentatively, a light and questioning touch. Keith squeezed on his fingers in acceptance.

“It’s gonna start pouring down any second,” Lance murmured more softly than Keith was used to hearing him outside, making his skin prickle with goosebumps. “Let’s get inside before lightning starts striking down. We can… go to your room. If you want.”

The first drops of rain were beginning to fall, though Keith barely noticed; it seemed as though the dry ground was already coming alive with that first touch, those desert wildflowers that had been dormant underground for seasons taking their rare chance to bloom without any hesitation. For them, the storm was the moment they'd been waiting for all their lives. Maybe it was a dumb, sappy thought, but... when Keith looked at Lance, he felt like it was a feeling they both understood.

And there was something else in Lance's eyes, still searching for a final confirmation, hesitant about whether this was okay with Keith, too— but he was grateful that Lance had been able to spit out what he had been tongue-tied over. This was their chance, they were finally ready for this— and as nervous and anxious as Keith was, he loved Lance far too badly to care. He felt something in his heart breaking out through the ground, a sense of something blossoming as the rain picked up pace on both their heads.

“Yeah,” he nodded, and gave a shy smile as he pulled Lance by his hand, and into a run for the indoors. “Let’s go.”

* * *

How much else mattered if you shared an eternity, even if nobody else ever knew about it?

Even if they’d end up apart… even _when _they ended up apart, they still had the eternity they’d given to one another. Wherever they went, whatever happened, it wouldn’t change this moment; in the unceasing flow of time from the beginning to the end of the universe, they created a part just for them, that existed now and forever. 

A flame burned bright here in this moment, a light that’d never go out. This wasn't what fate wanted, but it was far more important than that— it was _theirs. _Warmth, a heat source, a firelight beacon of _them, here and now_ that'd shine on long after the rest of the universe had faded out. An undying star.

That was, for what it was worth to them, eternity.

* * *

“Was I, uh—“ Keith bit his lip nervously, looking down. “Was it okay?”

It was kind of funny to see him become shy again so quickly, blushing and looking away like he hadn’t just been on top of Lance minutes ago, like they weren’t lying naked next to each other. It was… well, really endearing.

“Yeah.” Lance smiled and leaned his head in closer to give him a kiss on the nose. “More than okay, actually.”

Keith beamed at the praise like a leaf turning towards the sun, shifting closer to Lance and stretching his fingers out to interlock with his. “…Thanks.”

Lance remained silent for a moment, appreciating how much had to have finally gone _right _for him in the universe for him to be here now. It was about time it gave him a break, he figured— and right now, he didn’t even have the energy left to get paranoid over how long it could possibly last. He was tired in mind and body, and felt a little weird and stiff, but somehow still… comfortable. Because he was here with Keith, because he _did _this with Keith.

His quietness seemed almost to alarm Keith, as his bashful expression became laced with nervousness. “D’you…uh, _feel _okay? I mean,” Keith spoke so softly that Lance could barely hear him even as they lay face to face. “Do you feel, um, y’know, sore or anything?”

“Not much yet,” he shook his head. “We’ll see how I’m walking tomorrow morning.” Lance allowed himself a small grin at the flush of embarrassment that sentence gave to Keith— even here and now, he couldn’t resist messing with him a _little _bit. “Don’t worry, I’ll get used to it.”

“Well, as long as…“ Keith’s bottom lip always curled the same way when he got flustered- it made Lance want to interrupt him with another kiss. “As long as you _liked_ it.”

“‘Course I did, stupid. You were great.” Lance couldn’t help but bubble up with his sappiest, fondest smile when Keith’s eyes brightened at the reassurance. He really was a lucky bastard to have him for a boyfriend, and— and he wasn’t not going to say it. “I love you, Keith.”

Keith smiled so earnestly and gratefully it made Lance’s face feel all warm just to see it, like he was facing the sun shining. He pulled Lance’s fingers to his mouth and kissed them. “I love you, too.”

“Hey, uh…” Lance felt weirdly shy again all of a sudden, like he’d used up all his communication abilities for the day, or maybe the whole month. “I’m glad that… y’know. No matter what happens in the future, I got to do this for the first time with you.”

He hadn’t expected the reaction he got back; Keith pulled him into his arms with a happy, excited hum— like what Lance had said had given him a rush of energy. “Yeah.” His voice was as warm and bright as sunlight. “I… I feel the same way.”

Lance tightened his grip on Keith’s fingers and smiled openly, unguarded, completely safe and unafraid. If he could fall asleep like this every night— well, that was a nice dream.

The kind of dream you can hang onto for eternity— the kind you remember in perfect clarity, no matter how much time passes. The kind that lives on in your memory forever, and ever after.


	21. Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, eh? Turns out pandemics really kill your writing mojo... I feel like I'm going to start stress-writing again once grad school starts for me, though, so hopefully that'll inspire me somewhat. I always end up writing more when there's something more urgent that I should be doing!

Lance didn’t know what had inspired him to hang around and eavesdrop on the landed class amongst the cadets— _good soldiers, good kids from good families. _It wasn’t a _huge _group, barely a noticeable discrepancy unless you were paying attention. And Lance always was.

They were mulling about the posting for the year’s academic awards in an otherwise empty part of the hall, complaining about not having one of themselves chosen for Year Three’s top cadet. Keith had been chosen again this year, and not for a lack of merit. Lance knew what unfair advantage looked like through and through, but he also knew Keith; as far as Lance was concerned, it was a miracle that Keith could keep up all these parts of his public image _and_ perform his scholastic duties, and not buckle under the weight of it all. It worried Lance to watch him nearly running himself into the ground all the time, and he wished that Keith could take on a little less responsibility before it killed him; but all the same, he was still proud of Keith's accomplishments.

Then he heard a name drop, and realized that these particular upper-crusts, who were not long ago beaming with congratulations for Keith in class, were sharing quite different sentiments behind his back. Fucking predictable; Keith could’ve called it. He knew these types by heart, he’d told Lance about them, but it still made Lance so fucking _angry _to hear.

"It’s unfair how Kogane gets all the favour around here,” the taller one muttered. “It’s just because of the family name. I doubt he’s really that much of a talent as people say.”

A twitch in his fingers, and he began stalking towards them quietly, unnoticed, wondering how the hell he’d explain the aftermath to Keith— no, he should be the bigger man and resist, right? 

“He’s nothing special, _really._ But try telling that to the administration— they’re all obsessed with him, like he’s their mascot.”

“They probably only like him because he _looks _good. That, and because he’s got his parents’ influence.”

“I’ll bet he’s never worked for any of this, either. Probably rotten right under the gilding.”

Lance couldn’t resist.

He grabbed one of the perpetrators by the shoulder and swung him around. 

“What’d you say about Kogane?”

To his surprise, a smile. “Ah, McClain. Figures _you’d_ be listening for that name.”

“What the fuck does _that _mean?” Though he was a good deal taller than most of the grade, including this one, the bastard _was _standing his ground. Half-smiling like he’d _hoped _for the chance for this fight, and Lance began to feel like he’d been goaded into something— like he’d been tricked and made a fool. That made him brim with fresh rage, and against his better judgement prepare to punch the teeth right out of that stupid fucking grin. “_Well?_ What’re you trying to say?”

“I think it’s obvious.”

He hadn’t expected any real retaliation, but he’d welcome the opportunity for a real fight— he hadn’t had one in a while. The first fist he threw was caught, and his arm twisted; okay, so these particular star pupils could, in fact, fight— and fight dirty.

Dirty enough that, in his distraction with the first of them, the other two had ganged up on him from behind. Though Lance had sensed the approach fast enough to swing and land a few swift hits, he had been triangulated by the enemy, and ended up kicked to the ground far sooner than he’d anticipated. As he made to climb up off the floor, Two took a cue to pin him securely with his wrists in a vicelike grip and a sharp knee in the bottom part of his spine. Three tapped her boot against the side of his stomach and smiled at the sound of discomfort he produced.

Really, it was sort of pathetic of them, three against one… what had them _all _so angry about him, anyways?

“Hah,” Lance spat onto the tile that his head was pressed sideways against. “Must fuckin’ suck to know you couldn’t measure up to him.”

Three hissed in something like defiant repulsion. “Bullshit. He’s just his name. Nothing else.”

A blow to his cheek stung but only left a dull, hollow sort of pain against the surging high of adrenaline and righteous anger. They’d started this, he told himself. Maybe he threw the first fist, but they were talking shit about _Keith_, what else could he have done? His lip was definitely bleeding, as was the inside of his mouth. He licked off the evidence of the injury quickly, not wanting to leave a trace of any damage.

“You’re not used to getting called out on your bullshit, huh?” Lance glared around at the triad of them, all stoic and straight-laced with perfect standard-issue haircuts and a near-regal air, but some threads clearly becoming frayed from his insults. He loved watching them wear out and stoop down to _his _level, to a worthless, badly-bred offworlder recruit like him. “None of you have what it takes. Bet you never even took an exam to get placed, with your parents doing all the heavy lifting for you. But Kogane _was _made to take it— there’s _nothing _he hasn’t worked for. That’s why he’s the one up there, and none of you could _ever _be.”

He got One really angry again, and it felt incredibly satisfying.

“Yeah, and why are _you _so obsessed with defending him?”

When he didn’t respond, his assailant growled, another question coming with less poise and more raw anger. 

“What are you, his fucking dog?”

He smirked. Wasn’t gonna deny it, didn’t even feel like it— if _that’s _what he wanted to call it, sure. It was apparent now that this whole thing was about jealousy. A lot of people were, after all, and he knew it. They thought their glares were subtle, voices hushed when they complained that Kogane was wasting his time on _that _guy, McClain of all people, it was _ridiculous _to think.

But regardless of what any of these assholes had said about him, they desperately wanted the good graces of Kogane; to ride on his successes and be the ones he chose for training exercises, maybe eventually for an actual team. They didn’t _like _him, no— they liked the idea of him, that same one Keith kept on public display out of necessity. But they didn’t _have _him like Lance did.

“He acts like one,” Three muttered. “And seems about as smart as one.”

Two pressed his knee harder into Lance’s back, and it was hard not to betray the pain in any sound. “Well, aren’t you gonna defend yourself?”

The grin he replied with just made his opponents angrier, more amusing to watch, things spiralling out of control a little further with a more meaningful kick to the jaw this time. Still not enough to break anything, though. These army brats weren’t _really _out to do too much harm, at least not physically; they were too cowardly, too afraid of the repercussions of lasting damage. They didn’t _know _lasting damage, so they took care not to find out. They had no idea what pain really meant at all.

So he was gonna keep fighting with his words, then. The weapons of choice for a sneering, snivelling—

“You’re Kogane’s bitch, aren’t you?”

Lance flinched at that. The trace of weakness was immediately detected and utilized.

“I’m right, huh? Should’ve figured, that’s why he’d keep you around—“

“You’re insane,” Three shook her head. “Kogane has more options than anyone, why would he want anything like _that _from… _him?”_

“He’s probably just the easy option. Don’t need to offer him anything in return, he’s that loyal.”

Two had the nerve to laugh. “Doesn’t really matter much who he is in the dark, or if you don’t look down when he’s on his knees…”

Lance felt actual pain for the first time in this whole battle. How dare he— _how dare they—_

“Makes sense to me; Kogane’s a great strategist, knows who to use for what—“

Suddenly the hands pinning his wrists weren’t so difficult to break free from, his body twisting out against the impulses of painful resistance without so much as a thought for if it hurt. A kick backwards into the gut of Two and a sound of surprised disarmament, followed by a thump on the floor. He lunged for the leader’s throat, too fast for any chance of escape, and saw some legitimate _fear _in the bastard’s eyes.

“Don’t ever talk that way about him. _Ever. _I don’t give a shit what you say about _me, _but Kogane would never, ever stoop that fucking low.” The taste of iron, the soreness setting in where his lip was split, revitalized him in a strange way as he bared his teeth. “If you insult him again by insinuating anything _like _that, you’re gonna graduate this school in a fucking body bag. Do you understand me?”

He understood, all three of them did. None of them would try anything like this again, he could read it off the tension in the room, even with the two he couldn’t see. He couldn’t see much of anything besides red, but he felt it. Pounding like his heart, an earthquake pulling the world under, and everyone in it. 

They’d be too ashamed of even _engaging _with a lowlife like him to admit what had happened, and chances were nobody up high cared too much, long as nothing and nobody important was harmed. And he hadn’t left any blood on the floor, so…

Fuck them. Fuck _everyone— _they don’t know a fucking thing. They _didn’t_ know anything, Lance reassured himself. They didn’t know him and Keith.

* * *

Lance was sitting across from him today, in a desk not adjacent but in the same row, even though nobody was filling the seats in between. Keith tried to smile at him, but Lance wouldn’t meet his eyes. Something seemed… off. Lifting his eyes from the lesson every few seconds, Keith cast a worried glance at Lance, putting together the image in microsecond frames; eventually what was bothering him so much became apparent. Lance had moved such that his hair was no longer obscuring the square of gauze taped to a purplish portion of his cheek, and a smaller adhesive on a darkened corner of his upper lip. As if by some sixth sense, Lance realized his exposure and looked over at Keith momentarily, catching him in his stare.He countered it with something of a glare, before leaning onto his desk a little further to let his bangs again fall forward and conceal the side of his face.

He’d been in another fight, hadn’t he? Keith’s stomach sunk. It had been hard to get much of a look, but it seemed that he’d been hurt badly. The remainder of the lesson droned on as meaningless garble, and Keith mechanically transcribed notes without awareness— he could go over them later, but at the moment, he couldn’t focus on anything besides finding out what was up with Lance.

He seemed too eager to hurry away from him as the class ended, not like usual— he’d at least give him a _look, _something to go off of so that Keith could know if he needed to go apart from him. He realized, also, that they’d developed something of a reputation for being inseparable. It worried him a little, but he had no problem telling anyone who asked that yes, McClain was his friend, his best friend. He made that particular role clear— that and nothing more.

But Lance was stalking off somewhere without even acknowledging him, and it stung a little, even if Keith didn’t want to admit it to himself. He felt like an idiot, trying to act calm and not attract attention, casually chasing him down the hall in long strides— finally, when he was close enough to speak to him in a private volume, the sound of his voice seemed to make Lance bristle.

“What happened, Lance?”

“None of your business.” He got one sentence and a glowering look in response, but also something akin to guilt in the tone of his voice.

Keith scowled. “Tell me why your face is like that, Lance.”

A sarcastic laugh. “You mean why I’m this ugly? Well, wish_ I_ knew—“

He seemed genuinely startled when Keith roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him aside into the closest vacant space that presented itself, a classroom with the lights off and not another soul in sight. He had made sure, even in his self-indulgent moment of anger, that their disappearance from the hallway wasn’t conspicuous or attention-attracting, that nobody around had been paying mind to them. Now that he had Lance alone, he let him go, and felt a horrible twist of guilt in his stomach as Lance looked away and rubbed his arm in obvious discomfort. He hadn’t meant to do that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, taking a step backwards— feeling not entirely worthy of Lance’s presence about now. He looked down at the well-polished grey floor, and saw an ever-slightly warped reflection of himself. “I just got so worried, and… well, if you want me to leave you alone, I’ll go now—”

Lance stepped forward, tilted Keith’s chin up gently with his hand so as to meet his eyes— an intense, hungry look therein. They almost seemed coal-black in this lighting, burning hot, too bright to look at—

And Lance was kissing him. Keith hesitated to close his eyes and allow himself to participate, not wanting to let this distract him from figuring out who’d done_ that_ to Lance’s face, and what had happened and _why… _But he could let it slide for just a _few _more moments. Keith let his hands settle on Lance’s hips and linger there, finally summoning the willpower to drag them up to his shoulders and push him back so that he could do what he’d intended to and _talk, _damn it.

“Were you in a fight, Lance?” It was a redundant question, honestly. Sure, Lance got some scrapes and cuts and bruises from jumped fences and vehicle collisions and his zeal for sparring, but the positioning and nature of his injuries seemed very… deliberate. Honestly, he just wanted Lance to confess.

Looking away, Lance’s mouth bent into two thirds of a triangle, sharp and intently pointed so as to guard his secrets— but with another cautious look at Keith, he relented. He must’ve seen just how much it was bothering him, how worried he was— that usually_ was_ what got through to him.

“It’s not a big deal,” Lance murmured, one hand fiddling with the hair next to his ear as he did when he was nervous. “I didn’t want to make it your problem. It’s all been settled, anyways.”

“Settled?” Keith couldn’t figure out what Lance meant, and he supposed Lance didn’t really want to make it too clear either. “So, I guess you… won?”

“What do you think, Kogane?” Lance grinned. “‘Course I did. The fuckers won’t talk about you that way again long as they live.”

_Talk about me? _That confirmed Keith’s fear, that he’d somehow been the impetus for all this. He knew how Lance was protective of him, and as much as he was ashamed to admit it, he loved it— loved feeling that he really mattered that much, that Lance’s sharp-toothed ferocity might be spurred to some perceived slight to _him. _But the idea of Lance getting into trouble or getting harmed because of that fierce defensiveness had bothered him. He’d told Lance as much, time and time again, but there really wasn’t any stopping him when that fire began to burn.

“What’d they say?” Keith asked softly, hoping he could get a little more information out if he snuck past Lance’s defences with a distracting hand on his cheek, and by letting him lean in and do what he liked. 

“It’s not important,” Lance mumbled into his neck. “Some jealous pricks who wish they were you. Or as close t’you as I am.” The warmth of Lance's breath on his skin made Keith lose his train of thought for a moment— but ultimately, he persisted.

“Hey, Lance…” He ran his fingers through Lance’s hair, and rested another arm around his shoulders, feeling how the bones jutted out just below the uniform and skin; how despite being rather tall and imposing in spirit, Lance still had that sharp, birdlike frame that seemed delicate to the touch. He was strong, but not invincible. And he’d broken too many of these bones already, through the years. “Lance, just tell me this, okay? Did they… talk shit about _you?” _

Now Keith realized his curiosity was a little selfish, a little masochistic. But he’d forgive Lance picking fights with whomever a lot faster if they’d said something bad about _him. _That _would, _in Keith’s eyes, justify some violence.

“Not really.” Lance had managed to push him up against a wall, and he hadn’t even been paying enough attention to realize until he felt it cold against his back. “More ‘bout _us_.”

“What… do… you… mean?” Keith managed to choke out the question only in short bursts, as Lance was evidently doing his best to silence and distract him. There was something fervent about his behaviour today, a desperate question he wasn’t asking aloud. Keith felt him moving down and pulled him back up, noticing the flare of irritation and embarrassment in his eyes. “Not now, Lance. I still want to know—“

“There’s nothing to know!” Lance pulled back, and even though there was only as much light as the crack beneath the door allowed in, he could see that his face was red. “I don’t_ care_ what they think I am to you, it doesn’t fucking _matter_! I don’t even care if I’m your— I’m your…”

Oh.

_That _was what they’d said. That was exactly the sort of thing that could get to Lance, easily as he let all manner of other labels and pejoratives slide off, that could find where insecurity made him most vulnerable and hurt him most… Keith felt furious, and guilty as well. Because on some level… he’d really made him feel that way. He must have.

“You… you know how I feel about you, right, Lance?” He spoke softly, extended a hand to tentatively grab onto Lance’s fingers, his voice coming a little more easily when he didn’t pull away. “You know how much you mean to me, right?”

Lance nodded slowly, as if only half-convinced. They must have had this one-sided talk a thousand times, but Keith would say it however many times Lance needed to hear it, whenever he needed to hear it.

“You know, I... I wish I could go and tell the whole school that we're together, and that they can fuck off.” He earned a chuckle from Lance for that one; it seemed that hearing _him_ curse was somewhat amusing for someone more accustomed to using harsh words. "I’d tell the whole universe if I could."

Usually, around this part, Lance’d crack a smile and punch him in the shoulder, mock him a little for how cheesy he was being, ask where he even _learned_ to say shit like that, from romance novels? But he remained silent, having drifted back into Keith’s arms and leaning his head onto his shoulder.

The wounds visible on his face weren’t the worst of them, then. And the worst of them wasn’t nearly as easy to neatly bandage over. It was Keith’s own fault that he kept Lance like a dark secret, that he even created an opportunity for him to be hurt like that. He hated himself for that. Lance didn’t need this, didn’t need him making more problems for him.

“And I do love you, Lance. I do.”

And he’d repeat it quietly, a rhythm sure as the ceiling fan rattling somewhere above them, until he felt that strange tension dissolve from Lance’s body. Until he settled comfortably, restfully in his arms, and things felt right again.

Keith didn’t mind saying it that much. In fact, he was happy when he had the chance, that it didn’t annoy Lance, that he was _allowed _to say it to him over and over and over. Even though he’d said it back more than once, Lance was always more cautious, more quiet. That was okay, though. He_ had _said it, and since Keith knew he felt that way too, he didn’t need to ask for more.

Still, that quietly mumbled echo of his own words made Keith’s heart race, as those words would every time. 


End file.
